


Requiem for a Ghost

by Yuripaws



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Ji Guang-Hong, Aged-Up Minami Kenjirou, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Alpha Yuri Plisetsky, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Background pairings: otayuri / milasara / leoji / chrisumi, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Casual Yuuri/Phichit in the first chapter, Consensual Possession, Developing Relationship, First Dates, First Love, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Heavy Angst, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Rituals, Music, Mutual Pining, Nesting, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Otabek Altin, Omega Verse, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Piano, Pining Katsuki Yuuri, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Rough Sex, Rutting, Scent Marking, Self-Lubrication, Sex Toys, Slow Burn, Smut, Soul Bond, Soul Sex, Soulmates, Top Katsuki Yuuri, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2018-10-29 15:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 67,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10856628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuripaws/pseuds/Yuripaws
Summary: With silvery hair, a trickster smile, and a knack for disappearing, they called him The Ghost.No Alpha has ever claimed him, but Yuuri Katsuki won't settle for anyone else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright. Well. First of all, this is my first Omegaverse fic so I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing. But this is nothing new, because I'm an idiot. Also I'm not a scientist.
> 
> Second! This is my first longfic where I haven't pre-written several chapters so I have no idea where I'm taking this lmao WE'RE ALL IN FOR QUITE THE RIDE HERE. So fasten your seat belts and ignore the screaming.
> 
> This is also my first College AU so I'm killing two cliches with one stone.

Hands, hooked like claws; digging, sharp, and as piercing as the screams ripping from his throat.

He pins him down with a strength that makes the other man whimper, and when he spreads his legs beneath him, the scent, so intoxicating and so _maddening,_ isa siren call that rips out the snarl building within him. His teeth break skin now, sinking through flesh, and blood, so much blood, so red and so thick -- blood that he laps up with an eager tongue, frenzied and out of control.

He whimpers again, the one underneath him, the one surrendering to him, the one  _begging_ him, begging to be devoured, and he bares his throat for him. So inviting, so frail.

He’s wet, so wet and so submissive, and the thick and throbbing cock that slides and drives into him has him screaming, nearly howling, writhing in ecstasy and crying out --a call that none would answer, because he belongs to _him_ now, and no one else. No one would _dare._

He feels it rise within him, that searing and violent jolt, and he lunges to tear at his throat, but suddenly the man slips away. He slips between the fingers of the hands that try so desperately to grab him, only now they grasp at empty air, and all that lingers is the scent of a siren, the scent of a ghost, and the last thing he sees is a pair of gleaming blue eyes, with a wicked grin to match it. And the last thing he hears, the last thing he’ll ever hear, is a laughing and mocking jeer whispered into his ear.

_“Catch me if you can.”_

Yuuri Katsuki wakes with a gasp, then a long groan. Panting and sweating, he grinds his teeth in frustration and runs his fingers through his hair, his head aching and tingling.

That dream. Again. He hates it -- at least, that’s what he likes to tell himself. He hates it, yes, but when it comes, he lets it, opening himself to it and letting it consume him. He can still feel the phantom sensation of the jolt that had shot down his spine, and he closes his eyes now, letting out a shaking breath. He’s hard. Very hard. And as much as he tries, he can’t stop himself. He’s in rut, as he always is during these dreams. Does it cause the dreams, or do the dreams cause it?

Yuuri doesn’t know, but he really needs to fuck something.

But he can’t. Well, he _can_ , but he feels awful about it. So he snakes his hand down to his cock instead, but before he can even grab it tight, he hears the rustle of bed sheets beside him.

“Mm... Yuuri?” A voice thick with sleep and concern.

“It’s nothing, Phichit,” Yuuri says softly. “Go back to sleep.”

His roommate snuggles closer to him in the bed they share in their dorm. Yuuri feels incredibly awkward about this, but it has nothing to do with the boy now settling into his arms.

Phichit has been a very good friend to him for several years now. They had first met online as senior high school freshmen, and had one day decided that they’d travel to the US to attend the same university after graduation. Yuuri's long flight from Japan had reached Detroit first, and when the plane from Thailand had landed not too long after, they had run into each other's arms, shouting and laughing in the middle of the airport.

When they had first walked into their spacious and lovely dorm room, they had seen the two beds and had promptly decided to share one instead. They had been very physically affectionate from the start, immediately comfortable enough with each other for that level of intimacy, and nothing had changed much in the past two years. They were closer than ever now.

Yuuri feels a hand travel slowly down his chest, and he shivers. Yes, very close, the two of them.

“I can help you, Yuuri,” Phichit whispers.

Phichit often offers his assistance in these very dire situations. Yuuri greatly appreciates it, but it’s still sort of awkward. Then again, Yuuri finds many things awkward. Yuuri is just sort of an awkward person in general. 

This had started back when Yuuri had gone into his first rut on campus, and he had been on the verge of locking himself in the bathroom of his dorm room for several days straight, because it was maddening, being surrounded by so many Omegas.

And they wanted him. They wanted him _badly_. Desperately.

It really wasn’t his fault. His scent was powerful, radiating from him in hot and widespread waves that had Omegas salivating and other Alphas backing down. One had even gone so far as to try and present Yuuri with their mate. Yuuri had respectfully declined.

In fact, Yuuri doesn't want any of the Omegas that come after him. Unbuttoned shirts and raised skirts do nothing for him. Well, no, they drive him fucking crazy, but even in his cycle, he's able to overcome it.

Because there's only one person he wants.

But that’s just a stupid fantasy. He tries not to think of it as Phichit’s hand finally finds his cock, and Yuuri lets out a low moan as warm fingers wrap around it. It feels so good to be touched, but there’s an underlying sense of dissatisfaction that makes Yuuri feel bad. And awkward. Again.

Phichit is a Beta. And Yuuri doesn’t really feel attracted to him. Again, it isn’t the other boy’s fault, because he’s certainly a skilled lover, and Yuuri groans and squirms as Phichit’s fingers tighten, sliding up and down the length of him slowly and teasingly.

Alphas and Omegas aren’t sexually or romantically inclined towards Betas. Not for some complicated dystopian hierarchy sort of star-crossed lovers bullshit. It just doesn’t really happen.

Betas are meant to populate. Alphas and Omegas aren’t. Their feral and insane hormonal urges are meant only for each other. Yuuri had heard a thousand lectures on this -- on Betas having some dormant gene or something that could produce Alphas and Omegas, but that's where that branch of the family tree would end. He’d heard professors theorize that this phenomenon could be some sort of population control, since Alphas and Omegas are exclusively attracted to one another, which eliminates the biologically useless coupling with Betas. The rituals of mating and conceiving are all instinctual between the Alpha and the Omega, but nothing actually comes of it. Yuuri supposes that this is kind of sad, and has probably been the subject of many depressing romance novels. In any case, Yuuri isn’t really good at science, so he just sort of ignores and accepts it as fact, not wanting to think too hard on it.

And so Yuuri now finds himself mounting his Beta best friend, and despite his lack of attraction, touch is touch, and anything with a hole is appealing right about now. It’s common for this to happen between close friends, because Betas aren’t attracted to Alphas and Omegas either, and often don't mind helping out. Sometimes being a good and understanding friend means getting wrecked by a horny Alpha, or plowing an insatiable Omega. Friendship is such a beautiful thing.

Yuuri kisses Phichit’s neck, lips pressed against his awakening pulse, and his moaning has Yuuri tensing, ready for the attack. But he has to stop himself, has to maintain control. An Omega can take dick like a champion, but Betas are frail. And so Yuuri has to be careful. _Very_ careful.

He bites the skin gently, hearing the boy gasp softly in response, and Yuuri starts to blindly grab and pull at their clothing in the dark. Phichit’s cock is hot and hard against him, and he moans loudly when Yuuri strokes it with deft but cautious fingers. He tries not to squeeze too hard, and is careful not to cut him with his nails.

“Yuuri,” Phichit moans as Yuuri jerks him faster, “o-oh, _god!_ ”

Yuuri’s panting now, his blurry vision trembling, and he can’t take it anymore. They could have a bit of fun sometimes, drawing out the pleasure for both of them, but tonight, after that _dream_ , Yuuri has to have him. _Now._

He has to stop himself again before he tries to enter him, and he gropes for the nightstand drawer, rummaging until he finds the bottle of lube they keep there. This is the sort of annoying thing about Betas, he thinks as he pops the cap open a little impatiently. But it isn’t their fault, of course.

Yuuri slips a coated finger inside of Phichit, hearing him gasp, and he slowly slides in a second and third, stretching him as carefully and as widely as he can. Yuuri doesn’t like to brag, but he’s big. Very big. And very thick. He can't even fit all the way inside of Betas, so he has to take it nice and easy. He doesn't want to hurt his friend.

When his slicked cock finally slides in to replace his fingers, the other boy groans, then cries out as Yuuri starts to move inside of him, rocking his hips slowly and inching deeper. Phichit's cries grow louder as Yuuri thrusts faster and harder, and Yuuri grits his teeth, holding back, because to take out every ounce of his sexual frustration on Phichit would probably kill him. Which would make Yuuri a shitty friend.

He thrusts deeper without meaning to, wincing as Phichit lets out a strangled scream. Yuuri pauses, worried, but the other boy wraps his arms tight around him, clawing at his back desperately.

“Don’t stop!”

And so he doesn’t. Not for a while, anyway. Yuuri can go all night, but he watches closely for signs that Phichit is exhausted and can't go on. He’s already come twice, his stomach and chest splattered, and his neck is scored with imprints of Yuuri’s teeth. Yuuri would have to finish soon. He closes his eyes to concentrate, to let himself build up, tensing as he feels his body burn hotter. He suddenly thinks of eyes -- blue and teasing and so far away.

Yuuri growls low in his throat as he comes, pulling out smoothly and spurting thickly across Phichit's groin. Well, Yuuri thinks wearily, trembling as he grabs the mercifully unswollen base of his cock, that's one thing he's grateful for. It’d be awkward to spend the night stuck inside of a worn out Beta, his knot keeping him trapped in place.

As usual, Phichit dozes off almost immediately after lazily wiping at himself with an old towel, but Yuuri stays awake. He’s less desperate now, but still not satisfied. He knows what he needs. What he craves.

He untangles himself from Phichit, shoving on his glasses and grabbing up his phone as he heads towards the bathroom. He slides into the empty tub with a shaking sigh, and closes his eyes for a moment as he rests his head back against the wall.

Viktor Nikiforov.

That name has haunted him for years. A name always hovering on everyone's lips -- especially after one of his stunts. Social media would explode on these occasions, and there was never anything Yuuri could do to avoid it.

Viktor seems to appear anywhere and at any time. Some fancy billionaire with a fancy private jet and nothing better to do than torment every Alpha on the planet, Yuuri had thought bitterly the first time he'd heard of him. No one even knows what the man even does for a living.

He's a legend -- even a myth, according to some. No one really knows how to describe his presence or his effect. The only word that comes to mind is ‘madness.’ And that’s exactly what it is. _Madness._

Viktor is an Omega, and his scent is strong enough to bring an entire city to its knees. And it had, actually. Viktor had one day suddenly arrived in the middle of a large city at the very beginning of his heat cycle. The result was _chaos_. Crazed Alphas nearly rioting, stalking and roving, determined to hunt him down. Several fights had broken out -- some nearly deadly, if rumors were to be believed. Attempts to quell the insanity had been attempted, as the majority of police and security forces were Betas, making them immune to Viktor’s powerful effects. But their efforts had gone to waste, as the rioting had only stopped when Viktor had suddenly disappeared. No one had laid eyes on him for more than a few seconds at a time, but suddenly he was gone, taking all traces of his scent with him.

Long silvery hair, a trickster grin, and a knack for disappearing. They had started calling him The Ghost.

Which was ridiculous, of course. The man didn’t waggle his fingers and disappear in a puff of smoke. He’d been the subject of several studies, and most theorized that his control of his scent far surpassed any artificial scent suppressors currently in existence. It didn’t seem possible, they had said. No one could have been able to do that.

But Viktor did it anyway, because he did anything he wanted, and fuck all else.

He liked to appear in clubs and bars, slipping away just as quickly as he had come, leaving chaos in his wake as Alphas scrambled to try and find him in the dark.

He liked to stroll into resplendent theatres, enjoying the sight of posh and cultured Alphas losing their composure to come snarling after him.

He liked to visit skating rinks, covered and disguised and scentless, and glide smoothly across the ice. His skill soon attracted looks from other skaters, and once all eyes were on him, he’d leave. Casually. But as he did, his scent would hit powerfully, leaving the ice stained red by frenzied Alphas tripping over themselves.

Yuuri had heard these kinds of stories often, and even if they were just exaggerated rumors, he sometimes lurked around these areas, praying that his city would one day be graced with The Ghost's presence. To no avail, of course. No one could successfully predict where he'd show up next.

One of Viktor's favorite things recently seemed to be appearing online. His fans -- for lack of a better term -- had lost their minds the first time he'd done so, because this was the clearest image anyone had ever seen of him. He’d appear on video on any site, whether pre-recorded or live, but no one seemed to be able to trace him. He’d sometimes leave cryptic messages that made no sense, thought most seemed to be challenges to come and find him. Or he’d do something mundane and casual. He had once uploaded a video of himself taking a nap, and it had gained 500k views.

And sometimes he’d tease. Mercilessly. Baring his throat, his neck so slender and graceful and _begging_ to be bitten. He’d moan and whimper and present himself to the camera, wet and trembling and desperate, rubbing himself over thin and revealing scraps of clothing and appearing so innocent and fragile that Yuuri nearly believed him. Yuuri had watched these videos many times. _Many_ times.

But there's one video in particular. One he had viewed the most often. The very first video he had ever seen, and he searches for it now, scrolling through his many saved videos until he finds it.

This video had haunted him the most. It had frustrated him the most. And it still does.

Christophe had dragged him off to a strip club a few months ago at the start of the semester, and despite his reluctance, Yuuri had kind of enjoyed it. The two of them were Alphas, and so they had chosen a club that catered more to their needs. Seductive Omegas exclusively owned the stage, and they danced in a way that said that they were desperate for a strong and protective Alpha to take them home and treat them right. Yuuri had found it hard to tear his eyes from the stage, and the air in the club had been thick with a confusing mix of different scents that was nearly overwhelming to him. But he'd still tried his best to have a good time, even though he'd been ditched at some point.

It hadn’t even been an hour before Christophe had grabbed him by the shoulder and had very drunkenly told him that he was going to take an Omega home and, in his words, ‘fuck him unconscious.’

Yuuri himself had been drinking quite a bit, uncomfortable among the crowd, and very aware of people eyeing him. As much as he hated to brag, he knew that he was one of the most powerful Alphas in this club, and he was attracting jealous but intimidated looks as well as sultry looks from the dancers on stage and the ones serving the floor. This had made Yuuri feel very awkward, and so he ordered more drinks.

He was halfway through his fifth shot before realizing that Chris had been his ride, and he had no way of driving back to his dorm. His memory had gone very hazy, and at some point he only remembered stumbling outside, trying to call Phichit only to find that his phone had gone missing. _Shit._

Being drunk and alone in the streets of Detroit hadn't exactly been appealing to him, but the campus was near enough to be within walking -- stumbling -- distance, and that was the last thing he had remembered. He had woken up the next afternoon, head pounding nauseatingly hard, and had found his phone on the bed beside him. Phichit told him that it had arrived in the mail. There had been no return address.

The video loads, and Yuuri takes a shaking breath.

Shortly after Yuuri had stumbled back to his dorm, Viktor had appeared.

Yuuri had watched the videos online the next day, gaping, unbelieving, full of regret and anger. This was the kind of bullshit that would only happen to him. Of _course._

There were several videos taken from various angles, but the majority of them were either at a distance, too dark, or too shaky. The video that plays now is the one Yuuri always watches in particular. It’s the clearest, both in audio and video, and the person recording had been right up front, within grabbing distance of the man onstage.

And there he had been--whipping his long silvery hair, rubbing himself against the thick pole, shedding his clothing slowly to reveal black and tight bondage-like lingerie studded with gleaming crystal shards. The music is unlike the usual upbeat club type; it's something low and growling and heavy, something seductive and sultry, something that awakens a hunger in the club full of stunned Alphas while they stare in disbelief. The camera jolts as the crowd surges forward, phones ready, wads of cash waving in the air to be thrown onstage, and a pulse of desire fills the club that has all the other Omegas falling to their knees.

Viktor gyrates on stage as he swings around the pole, his body moving smoothly and sinuously, muscles gliding and rippling under taut skin, thighs tight and powerful as they grip the pole, his back arcing, his hips thrusting. Yuuri’s breathing quickens, and he starts to sweat as he grabs his hardened cock. He jerks off slowly, watching closely, knowing the video by heart.

Viktor throws his head back, baring his throat, running his fingers down it, and the crowd loses its mind. The club’s security consists of strong and heavy-set Betas, meant to shield Omegas from frenzied Alphas during their shows. They can hardly contain them now, and hands reach forward towards the stage, desperately clawing for the dancing man paying them no mind. But the camera is steady, not missing a second of Viktor's performance despite the angered guards in its way.

Viktor turns and drops to the floor, bucking his hips fluidly, presenting himself, and his thong accentuates his ass so perfectly that it makes Yuuri drool, and he can see the bulge in the front, concealed but not leaving much to the imagination as it grinds against the floor along with Viktor's thrusting. Yuuri groans as he pumps his own cock faster, trembling and squirming hard.

Viktor arcs his back, spreading his legs wider, hips rising, ass high, and even from the short distance, Yuuri can see how wet he is. He can see him dripping down his thighs, the slickness catching the flashing lights. He's in heat and desperate for an Alpha to fill him. Yuuri moans, jerking faster.

“F- _fuck_ ,” he whispers, watching Viktor roll to face the crowd, spreading his legs again, and Yuuri can see his cock more clearly this time. It strains against the tight black fabric of his thong, his balls nearly squeezing out of it, and the audience is howling so hard that Yuuri can’t even hear the music anymore. He wants to howl with them, but he bites back his screams, squeezing his cock tighter and trying to muffle himself as his moaning grows louder and out of control.

He feels himself getting close as the video reaches its end. There’s another reason why he always chooses this video above others. It has something that they don’t. Something different.

Viktor takes notice of the camera, then crawls across the stage towards it. He comes forward like a jungle cat, lean and sleek and hunting, seeming to glide as he reaches it, and he’s so close that Yuuri can see the long strands of silver hair sticking to his face and the beads of sweat rolling down his body. He can almost taste them, hot and salty on his tongue. He strokes himself hard and fast, feeling the cum start to dribble down his cock as he sees gleaming blue eyes and hears low and wicked laughter.

And at this moment in the video is when Yuuri had heard Viktor’s voice for the first time. It’s so deep, so sultry, nearly a purr, nearly an invitation, and when he speaks, Yuuri comes hard, spasming and bursting and crying out as he hears the words that fall from soft and curved lips.

_“Catch me if you can.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiiiiiiiieeeee. Still figuring things out, I guess? I think I have a general direction I'm taking this in. Yeah. Sure.
> 
> Please excuse my utter lack of music knowledge!!! Google is my best friend but she can be a cruel and unforgiving mistress!
> 
> And in case anyone missed it, I drew Yuuri and Viktor~  
> http://yuripaws.tumblr.com/post/160542478061
> 
> More to come! I love drawing scruffy Yuuri!

Yuuri wakes up the next day feeling well-rested and a hell of a lot better than he had felt last night. He stretches, rolling over, but his hands grasp at cold and empty sheets.

Right. Phichit has morning classes today. Yuuri cuddles his pillow instead, burying his face into it and inhaling the other boy’s scent. Phichit has a good smell, and it’s very calming. Yuuri nuzzles the pillow, scenting it, but feels guilty and stops himself. It’s in his nature as an Alpha to mark anything he considers his. And Phichit is not a thing. Nor is he his.

Yuuri sighs in defeat, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. Though he doesn't mind taking a much-needed break, he really doesn’t want to be stuck in here all day. He’s still in his cycle, which exempts him from his classes on the special basis of being too powerful for scent suppressors, but the length is sometimes unpredictable. Which makes him fret about how much he's missing. He may not be the best student, but his guilty conscience won't let him be the worst.

Yuuri feels much more in control today, taming his raging urges to the point where he actually feels kind of human. Human enough to be in public without wanting to bend every Omega on campus over a table, at least. Though the thought is definitely very appealing. He pushes it away defiantly, not wanting to set himself off again. 

In any case, Yuuri is already bored. And hungry. He drags himself out of bed, fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand, yawning and scratching the scruff on his chest as he trudges towards the bathroom. Alphas are often scruffy -- soft furred tufts on their chests and tufts trailing down from their navels. Some preferred to shave, but Yuuri sort of likes how he looks this way, and he makes sure to keep himself carefully maintained. The result is a sort of casually and sexily disheveled look, and his head of scruffy black hair only accentuates it. It’s a big change from the pristine and clipped image he had always tried to maintain back home. Being on his own has given him the confidence to try new things now, and he's immensely glad that he'd taken the risk of traveling and living abroad. 

He leans towards the mirror above the sink and rubs at his smooth face. This is one place scruff never seems to grow. Not that he minds, even when Chris teases him about it, telling him that all his hair had retreated to his thick dark eyebrows instead. His lips curl back as he brushes his teeth. His canines are sharp, as Alpha’s usually are. Sharp, meant for biting. Piercing. Marking. And his did a great job of it, because he had bitten his tongue hard last night when he came, and it still hurts like a motherfucker.

Yuuri feels the heat rise in his cheeks as he showers, remembering that he'd been in this tub not too long ago doing other things. He hadn’t had another dream about Viktor after his second attempt at sleep last night, but he knows that there’s more to come. Always. He lets out a shaking breath, trying to calm himself, but his cock hardens against his will as he pictures Viktor's body arcing gracefully beneath him. He growls in frustration, but touches himself anyway, giving in to pleasure. He can't stop his cycle, so he might as well try to get this out of his system before going out. The memory of his dream is stronger than ever, tingling in the back of his skull, and it doesn't take long for him to finish, hissing with pain as his teeth slice the sore spot on his tongue again when he comes. He looks at the thick cum dripping between his fingers and suddenly imagines how it would look splattered across Viktor's --

No, dammit, he's _done_. He tries to keep his legs from trembling as he dries himself and stumbles out of the tub. After shaking droplets of water from his hair, he pauses, catching sight of himself in the mirror. For a moment, he seems ordinary. Not an uncontrollable and hormonal beast. Just ordinary.

Yes, he feels a lot more human today. He won’t let a dream or a cycle change that.

He makes his way down the halls of his dorm, deep in thought, and he's in the middle of wondering where he should go to eat today when he rounds a corner and bumps into someone hard. Yuuri scrambles for the textbooks that have thudded to the floor, and when he straightens back up, he sees a familiar face.

“Sorry! I totally zoned out.”

“It’s alright,” Otabek says gruffly. He isn’t angry. He just sounds that way. He’s a very nice guy, really. Yuuri is mostly sure.

Yuuri grins as he hands the books back to him, but as Otabek takes them, their fingers brush, and Yuuri can feel his heart start to beat a little faster, his nostrils twitching. No, it’s fine. He’s fine. But he knows that his eyes must be dark, his pupils dilated, because Otabek is giving him an odd look now, and there’s a wariness in his eyes that reminds Yuuri of prey that’s tensed, ready to flee. No, he thinks wildly, trying to stop his hands from trembling, it’s fine, it’s _fine._

“I-uh,” Yuuri tears his gaze away, drawing back, “um, sorry, I --”

**“HEY, ASSHOLE!”**

Yuuri cringes. _Here we go._

A short and very angry-looking freshman storms towards them, glaring daggers at Yuuri. He wraps an arm possessively around Otabek and scowls, tossing his long blond hair so he can glare with two eyes instead of one. The effect is much more intense. Yuuri is almost scared. Almost.

“Get your hands off him, creep,” he hisses. “Go find your own!”

Yuuri sighs, knowing that anything he says will land him in deeper shit. Yuri Plisetsky is a force to be reckoned with. He’s one of the smallest Alphas Yuuri has ever met, but that makes him all the more vicious, like a small dog that thinks it can take on something five times its size.

“I wasn’t --”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Yuri growls, holding Otabek even closer, “you --”

“Yura,” Otabek says softly. “It’s alright. Everything is okay.”

Yuri visibly relaxes at the sound of his Omega’s voice, though he’s still giving Yuuri a very sullen look. Otabek cups his face gently, raising it so that their eyes meet, and they seem to have a silent conversation for a few seconds, Yuri's face growing softer as each one ticks by. They finally break their gaze as Otabek dips his head and nuzzles him. After a moment, they both turn back to Yuuri.

“I’m... sorry,” Yuri grinds out a bit reluctantly. Otabek pats him gently.

This is very awkward. Yuuri nods politely at his apology, then tries to step around the two of them to continue his way to a well-deserved lunch, but Yuri blocks his path.

“Where are you going now?” he demands, still sulking.

Yuuri tries and fails to suppress his grin. “Not sure. I’m starving, so I was thinking of heading to the pizza place across --”

“No,” Yuri scowls again, wrinkling his nose in disgust, “that place sucks ass. I know a better place. Let’s go.”

He turns to go, and that’s the end of it. Yuuri grins again, letting his small friend lead the way. He had met Yuri literally the first day of the semester, because Yuri had stormed right up to his face, determined to find the strongest Alpha on campus. He had looked Yuuri up and down, scoffed, and had told him that he was disappointed at how pathetic he was.

And the two had been friends ever since. Sort of. Although Yuri would have murdered him before admitting that he considers him a friend, Yuuri knows that he’s got a soft spot. Somewhere. Deep down. Very deep down.

They run into Christophe along the way during his free period, and he happily attaches himself to their small group. He brings along his Omega, Masumi, who also seems eager to join in. He’s a soft-spoken and sweet boy, but Yuuri feels awkward around him. Chris sometimes has a reaction the complete opposite of Yuri’s -- winking and inviting him to join the two of them sometime. Yuuri declines every time.

He soon realizes that he’s sandwiched between two couples, and this revelation makes him uncomfortable. He knows that Chris and Masumi had Bonded the night they had met at that club months ago. Masumi had turned out to be a student living on campus as well, and Yuuri wonders if his roommates think he’s been kidnapped and murdered, because Yuuri has never seen him anywhere but by Christophe’s side. And Chris may be a vulgar playboy, but Masumi had brought out a genuinely happier side of him that Yuuri has never seen before. He still remembers the day after the club, when Chris had barged into his dorm to tell him all about how incredible it'd been to mate with an Omega who'd actually made him feel something, and how they'd woken that morning and felt themselves connected in a way far more intimate than just sex. Yuuri, who'd never had any experiences with any Omega at all, had listened politely -- happy for him, but feeling more empty than he had before.

But that isn't something he really likes to think about often. As he walks behind Yuri and Otabek, he notices that their pinkies are discreetly linked, and he tries not to laugh. How cute. The two of them had Bonded at a surprisingly young age -- they're freshmen, and were already mates before they had even enrolled. Yuri had come to the US from Russia at a young age, and he’d met Otabek, who had also recently moved from Kazakhstan, at a ballet class. As far as Yuuri’s aware, they had been inseparable ever since, and now they both attend the university as Dance Majors. Although Yuri doesn't like to admit things about his private life, Yuuri knows that he and Otabek haven't mated yet. It's not uncommon to Bond before that, and it's actually a sign of a very compatible pair.

Yuuri delves further into his own thoughts, vaguely aware that Yuri is screaming at Chris, calling him a ‘disgusting old pervert,’ probably because he'd also spotted their pinky-holding and had wondered aloud about what other body parts they liked to hold. He tunes them out, feeling something odd and uncomfortable. He’s felt it before, but he’s never exactly understood it. The sight of every pair they pass increases that feeling, and Yuuri's heart drops whenever they approach his group. 

Mila, Yuri’s older sister, waves and shouts from under the tree where she and her Omega, Sara, are lounging, bundled up warmly together in the autumn air. Yuri flips her a gesture that doesn’t exactly scream ‘brotherly love,’ but Mila blows him kisses, and Sara can’t stop laughing.

They catch Leo and Guang-Hong as they exit the food court. The two of them always seem to look sleepy, and Yuuri’s not surprised to see them sharing a large coffee. Yuuri has to look away from Guang-Hong, because he’s just such a typical and ideal Omega -- small, soft, shy, the tip of his nose as pink as his freckled cheeks in the steam wafting up from his cup. Leo’s smile is warm and friendly, but his arm tightens around him protectively while they chat.

Yuuri is immensely relieved that no one along the way had decided to join them. He feels guilty, because he cares about his friends and would love to spend more time with them, but having them around all at once is just too much. There’s a certain aura that surrounds Bonded pairs, and to be caught in the middle of multiple would make Yuuri’s anxiety skyrocket.

He sighs inwardly, knowing that he can’t push away his oncoming thoughts much longer. He can’t push away his envy. His loneliness. These are things he normally wouldn't have felt. Not until he'd become aware of a certain someone's presence. But now they eat away at him, filling him with a maddening longing for something more.

Yuuri often entertains stupid fantasies of him meeting Viktor and the two of them falling madly in love. It's a desire that's somehow stronger than the already powerful sexual need for him. The pain Yuuri feels when the man slips away from him in his dreams leaves him aching and empty, and he feels it -- mind, body, and soul. He daydreams about them Bonding, and imagines how it would feel when the two of them connect, and what they’d say to each other, and how soft Viktor’s gaze would be as he looks at him, and only him.

Stupid, he thinks, finally snapping out of it by the time they reach the restaurant. He needs to stop dreaming of things that will never happen.

Phichit is back in their room by the time Yuuri returns, cheerful and paint-splattered, and he turns to grin at him as he walks in.

“Oh? Looks who’s out and about!”

Yuuri scowls at him as he kicks off his shoes. “What, it's not like I planned to be stuck in here all week.”

“Yeah, I guess a dog should be walked every --” he starts, cut off by the pillow that’s just been hurled into his face. Yuuri still tries to scowl through his laughter.

“Some people would be offended by that, you know. Asshole.”

“But I’m _your_ asshole,” Phichit says sweetly, fluttering his lashes, and the meaning isn’t lost on him.

“Bye, I’m done.”

Yuuri plops himself down on his chair at his desk, leaning back and suddenly feeling exhausted. Arms wrap around him from behind, and Phichit nuzzles the side of his head. He's clearly picked up some habits.

“Long day at work, dear?”

Yuuri snorts, then wrinkles his nose. “Ew, get off. You smell like turpentine. I’m pretty sure you’re gonna die young.”

Phichit laughs, drawing away to go shower. He’s an Art Major, and his specialty is painting. He generally keeps his works in the studio, but occasionally he’ll bring back small canvases to display around their room. After the sixth one, Yuuri had told him that if he walked in with one more fucking hamster painting, he’d eat him alive. Phichit had arrived the next day with four more.

Yuuri’s alone now, and he begins to fall into his thoughts again. Really, it’s just unavoidable. He’ll always fall. After some hesitation, he opens his laptop and stares at the screen. It stares back. They stare at each other. It’s awkward.

Finally, Yuuri’s fingers slowly tap out letters to form words that form sentences that he hopes will one day lead him to a place he wishes he could call home. But they lead him to a dead end. They always do. Not just for him, but for others.

He checks sites that Viktor has been known to appear on, and he scrolls through endless emails, looking for any notifications. He’s tried to subscribe to every form of social media the man had ever used, but it had been over a week since anything had been updated. He leans back in his chair, defeated and somehow more exhausted than before.

Well, there’s one video he can watch now. He doesn’t know if it’ll make him feel better or worse, but he searches for it anyway. It’s fairly recent, maybe about a month old, but Yuuri's sure he's watched it at least a hundred times. It’s in his playlist along with every single other video Viktor had ever posted across various accounts. He never seems to use the same one more than a few times, but Yuuri still manages to find them all.

All of Viktor’s videos are numbered instead of titled. A bit annoying to search for, but not for Yuuri. He comes across the one he’s looking for.

Unlike his other videos, this one has a title.

'Untitled.'

It plays, and Yuuri’s heart skips a beat as blue eyes stare into his, and he shivers at the sound of his voice.

“I wrote this for you,” Viktor says softly as he adjusts the camera on its stand, and there’s something intimate in his tone, something quietly emotional in the eyes that look at him, at _him,_ and Yuuri feels like he’s speaking to _him_ , and no one else. He shivers again.

Viktor is seated on a pair of beautifully carved and cushioned stools at a magnificent grand piano. Not just any grand piano --  _the_ grand piano. His fingers are poised above gleaming ivory and ebony keys, and Yuuri is lost among the intricate carvings, the paintings, the inlays, glinting brass and copper and pearl, and when Yuuri closes his eyes, he can smell the fine oak, the cedar, the lacquer.

The original Steinway Alma-Tadema. No one could believe it at first. The last anyone had heard, it had been auctioned away for over a million dollars, acquired by an esteemed art institute. And yet here it is, having been apparently purchased for much more, in what appears to be Viktor’s lavish living room. Just how _rich_ is this man, and where the hell does he live?

Yuuri wants to close his eyes and lose himself in the music as Viktor begins to play, but he has to watch. He has to watch carefully.

Yuuri is a Music Major, and his primary instrument is the piano. He’d dabbled in a few others, but had never truly felt a connection. Every one he tried had been dropped not too long after, and Yuuri had never been satisfied with his playing on any of them. They had never seemed quite right.

One day, years ago, just as Yuuri was fretting over what to choose as his Major when he enrolled, the news had blown up with yet another Viktor stunt. This was one of his earlier stunts, in fact, and was the start of Yuuri’s downward spiral into obsession.

Viktor had appeared in the middle of a grand concert hall one evening. It was empty, but the sound of his playing reverberated throughout it, building and building and building, drawing the attention of those outside, and by the time someone had thrown open the doors, he was gone, leaving nothing but the last notes hanging in the air. It was the first time he had ever pulled a stunt that didn’t involve his Omega sex appeal, and the immensity of his talent had left the world reeling.

When Yuuri had chosen his Major, he’d never been more sure about anything in his entire life.

Viktor’s fingers are flying now, moving impossibly fast, long and graceful, and Yuuri tries his best to follow, trying to memorize, trying to put together this puzzle, this enigma, trying to learn it by ear. He has a knack for that, and he's tried hard to master it. His classmates had been almost as amazed as he had, both at the relic of a piano and at the difficulty of the piece, but no one had bothered trying to learn it. No one but Yuuri.

The piece is so beautiful, so moving, and it fills Yuuri with an emotion that rises, up and up, teetering on the edge of something he doesn’t understand. His cheeks flush as he watches Viktor play, a low purr forming in his chest at the sight of him.

Viktor’s long silver hair is loose and wild, nearly obscuring his face, but whenever his face does show, there’s something there that Yuuri can’t describe. There’s a longing that almost seems desperate, frenzied, and his head is bent, his brow furrowed slightly, perfectly, not marring his beautiful face one bit, and his long silvery eyelashes brush his cheeks as he closes his eyes.

The music manages to be soft but frantic, and when his fingers slow, the notes are something like sorrow -- or realization? Yes, he thinks as Viktor plays faster, a realization. A turning point. Yuuri feels his heart leap in time with Viktor’s playing, swelling in unison, and yes, it’s realization, it’s recognition, it’s something lost and then found, it’s something that makes Yuuri want to cry out to him, to the man pouring himself into his art, the man lost in an emotion that’s too intense, too real, and Yuuri understands now. Viktor comes to a delicate stop as the video nears its end, laying his hands gently upon the keys. He turns, and their eyes meet.

Yuuri Katsuki feels something like love.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've finally figured out where I'm taking this, and I'm pretty excited for the journey!  
> After I outline it, I'll have to start adding new tags. I'll give a heads up when I add anything significant.
> 
> EDIT:  
> Just to make it clear, the piano piece 'Untitled' is Yuuri's free skate song adjkfjfjke I'm sorry that I made it seem like it was Stammi Vicino I guess I was trying to combine the two I'M SORRY I AM A F O O L

Yuuri’s head nearly hits the desk as it slips off of the hand that had been trying to support it. He jerks back up, hoping that no one in the lecture hall had noticed. It’s only been half an hour, and he’s already struggling to stay awake.

The history of music isn't exactly his forte -- neither is any sort of history, for that matter -- so as the professor drones on, Yuuri feels himself nodding off again. Someone nudges him, and his head snaps back up quickly.

“Here, you look like you need it.” Leo, looking tired as well, slides his morning coffee over to him, and Yuuri accepts it gratefully. His hands shake as he drinks, and Leo frowns at him in concern.

“Did you sleep last night?”

Yuuri had not slept last night. He hadn’t the night before, or the night before that one. He can feel his eye twitching uncontrollably, and that seems like it’s enough of an answer. Leo looks sympathetic, but also sort of amused.

“If you wanna leave, that’s fine. I’ll send you my notes later, yeah?”

“T-thanks,” Yuuri says, trying to gather his things as discreetly as possible, “I owe you one.”

“No, I’m good, I’ve seen your notes.” Leo gives him a sly grin, and Yuuri tries not to snort in the middle of the hall as he tip-toes out.

He takes a deep breath outside, shivering in the chilly autumn air. The wind is brisk, and it makes him feel a bit more awake. But only a bit. It’s not quite freezing yet, and he sees a few students out, relaxing during their free periods. Some are even napping on blankets laid out on the grass, bundled in warm hoodies. Yuuri finds this baffling, but wonders if he should do the same. He shivers again and passes on that decision. As he makes his way towards his dorm, he walks as slowly as he can, taking his sweet time. He really doesn’t want to go back.

Not that it would matter. The dreams happen anywhere.

He’d woken up a few nights ago in a cold sweat, shivering and panting, almost crying. He hadn’t had the same dream he’d been having for months, the one with Viktor, the one that haunted him. There was no carnal lust, no tearing of flesh, no quivering and screaming body twisting beneath him. Nothing slipping away from him, laughing and taunting.

The dream had changed without warning. He hadn’t known why. He still doesn’t. All he knows is that it’s different now. And it scares him.

The dream is hazy, confusing, jumbled, and his anxiety is out of control, reaching a level he's never known while awake, and it makes him tremble, makes him take gasping breaths as he tries to find his way out of whatever hell he’s in. He thinks he sees fragments, things he can piece together to solve this maddening puzzle, but they pierce through him like jagged shards, cutting him open and leaving him empty. But what had been inside?

Wisps of smoke, breathy trails of white, steaming and curling out of him, searing him from the inside out, and he screams as he feels the heat shoot through him, and among the smoldering white ashes he thinks he sees a face, and he thinks he hears a voice. The sound of his heart beating is too loud, but he sees lips move to form one word.

_‘Why?’_

Exactly. 

Why is this happening, and how can he make it stop?

Yuuri stifles a yawn, rubbing at his eyes irritably. He definitely can’t keep this up. Not even with coffee. Not even with coke, probably, although Chris would gladly find him a dealer. No, he needs to shut down. His body is already doing so against his will, so he might as well make sure it hits a surface that’s not the hard and cold hallway floor.

When he returns to his room, Phichit is lounging in their bed, scribbling away in his sketchbook. He looks up at him in surprise as he walks through the door and lets his backpack fall with a heavy thud.

“Skipping class today?”

Yuuri shakes his head wearily, and Phichit gives him a soft and sympathetic look. He’s spent too many nights holding him as he woke in a blind panic, trembling and gasping in his arms. Phichit pats the space on the bed beside him, and Yuuri flops ungracefully on top of him. They roll over, and Yuuri immediately buries his face into Phichit's warm chest, inhaling his calming scent. His heart finally slows until it’s no longer trying to burst out of him. He can’t suppress the yawn that comes this time, and he feels his eyelids grow heavy. Phichit is so good and so warm, and Yuuri nuzzles him sleepily, purring in content.

“Giving in, huh?”

Yuuri grumbles into his chest, and as Phichit wraps his arms around him tighter, he reluctantly but swiftly falls asleep.

It’s the same dream again, the new one, and he feels like prey caught in the web of something that calls to him, something that tugs and pulls like the tide, something that he can hear? Yes, he hears it now, finally, he hears something over the pounding in his ears -- a voice crying in the distance, abandoned. He turns this way and that, desperate and searching, but there aren’t any directions -- there is no up and no down, there is no forward and no back, and suddenly he’s sinking, suddenly he’s drowning in an icy mist, pulled by the tide again, his arm outstretched and _please, somebody help,_ and with his final gasp, the last thing he sees is a hand trying to grasp him, but he slips through the fingers of a ghost.

Yuuri jerks awake, nearly screaming, and as Phichit tries to calm him, he realizes that his face is wet and he panics, still thinking he’s drowning. But it’s just his tears, and he wipes at them angrily, shaking and choking. Phichit runs his fingers through his hair, scratching him gently behind the ears as his breathing slows. Yuuri is thankful that Phichit isn’t the sort of person who asks if he’s okay, because he’s very fucking clearly _not_ okay.

“I don’t get it,” he blurts out after taking a shuddering breath, and he can feel Phichit’s quiet shock, and his anticipation. Yuuri has never actually spoken about his dreams to anyone. Phichit knows that he has them, but doesn’t know what happens, and has never asked him. But how can Yuuri even begin to explain it?

“It’s like...” he starts, then stops, struggling to put it into words, “it’s just... I’m sad. I’m miserable and I’m scared and I’m lost. I-I’m lost and I think I’m trying to find someone. Or... _they’re_ trying to find _me?_ ”

“Maybe you’re both lost,” Phichit suggests. 

Yuuri frowns. That doesn’t seem to make sense to him. Or does it? Maybe he just can’t remember, because he feels it slipping away now. Are they both lost? Have they both been abandoned? 

_‘Why?’_

He shudders and rolls onto his back with a heavy sigh. Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. The dream is over, and all he can do is wait for the next one.

He sighs again and rubs at his eyes. His sad excuse for a nap has given him enough energy to not die, at least. But he still feels drained and weak. Phichit ruffles his hair as he rises to leave for his next class.

“Do you want your pillow?”

Yuuri tries to scowl, but he doesn’t have the energy to make it convincing. Phichit grins and grabs a large pillow from the top of the dresser, tossing it at him. Yuuri clings to it, burying his face into the soft plush. It’s shaped like a giant onigiri, and he had brought it with him from Japan. It always calms him when he feels his anxiety spiraling out of control.

Phichit had teased him a little for it at first, making it seem as though Yuuri were a dog and the plush was his favorite toy. Yuuri had thrown it at him in a huff, then had shyly and awkwardly asked for it back.

Phichit smiles at him as he heads out, and Yuuri can see the concern in his face.

“Text me if you need anything, okay?”

Yuuri stays in bed for the next few hours, staring listlessly at the ceiling and trying to clear his mind. Since he’s already slept through half the afternoon, he’s missed his Music Theory class. It isn’t a difficult class, in his opinion, but he feels guilty anyway. He really needs to keep his grades up. His parents hadn’t worked hard to get him here for nothing. And scholarships and grants would only get him so far if he doesn't try to actually maintain them.

His stomach growls suddenly. He usually eats around this time, and right on cue, his phone vibrates. He checks it, and isn’t surprised to see that it’s Yuri, demanding to know where he is so they can have lunch together. It’s sweet, really.

_Sorry. Feel like garbage. Staying in bed._

Yuri starts sending him a stream of angry cat emojis, so Yuuri tosses his phone aside and rolls away from it. He feels like a useless lump. He should really get up and do something. Anything.

He has no classes after the one he’s just missed, but he usually spends that free time practicing in the music wing. He knows he should go today-- right now, actually-- but after that wild shitstorm of a dream, he really needs peace and quiet. And he’s afraid of being alone in one of the practice rooms, just him alone with his thoughts and a keyboard.

What had it been about that video? The last time he had seen it, something had changed. Something within him.

He'd watched Viktor’s performance several times in the month or so the video had been out. He'd watched so carefully, wanting to learn, wanting to master it perfectly. He would practice sometimes, making sure he was alone. There’s something invasive about the idea of other people walking in on him playing Viktor’s piece. He feels like it’s something the two of them share, and no one else should ever be allowed to see.

Out of the dozens of times, why had the last time been different? When their eyes had met, as they had so many times before, Yuuri had felt something stab through him. He had felt it rising as he watched, felt a new emotion blossoming. Something he didn’t understand. Something he wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to understand.

That emotion had hit its peak as Viktor turned towards the camera at the end of the video, and Yuuri had felt blue eyes piercing through screens, through space and through time, and Viktor had been _looking at him._

No. That’s ridiculous. It’s stupid. It doesn’t make sense.

So why does Yuuri feel something? Something like love?

Yuuri has no idea what love is supposed to feel like. He knows he loves his family and he knows he loves his friends. What else is there? Is it the kind of love when he catches the scent of an Omega? The love he would share when they mated? Is that what love means?

If love is what Yuuri feels right now, it fucking sucks.

He finally drags himself out of bed, stretching and groaning. Yes, it’s time to get up and do something. Anything. Maybe he’ll stop by the music wing and practice after all. Strange new feelings aside, he’s here for a reason, and he won’t let a video or a dream stop him. So he’ll go. But only for a little while.

He steps outside and breathes in the fresh and chilly air again. It’s just as refreshing as it had been before, and as he makes his way through campus, he feels almost alive. But not for long, because someone slams into him so hard he thinks he might fall and crack his head on the pavement. Why do people keep crashing into him? Has his life descended into rom-com territory?

A freshman with bright and outrageous hair hefts his large backpack up from where it had fallen, blushing hard and apologizing in a shaky voice.

“Oh! Yuuri, I’m so sorry! I’m late, I didn’t mean to... um...” he trails off, staring, and Yuuri knows that look. There’s an awkward pause.

“Uh... Minami, right?” Yuuri guesses, and the boy is so shocked that Yuuri remembers his name that he looks like he’s about to faint.

“Y-yes!” he stammers, trembling, and Yuuri continues to feel awkward.

When Minami had enrolled at the beginning of the term, Yuuri had thought he looked familiar when he'd approached him in the music wing one day. He was from Japan as well, and he had found Yuuri easily, drawn by his powerful scent, and had very nervously asked if he had remembered him from their music lessons back in junior high school. Yuuri only had a vague recollection of his wild blond hair, streaked with bright red now. But he hadn’t remembered much else.

Minami keeps staring, and although his Omega scent is faint and weak, Yuuri still feels it pull at him. Yuuri can tell that all he would have to do is breathe in his general direction to have him on his knees and begging. And he would rather not.

“I, uh, I have to go now. To practice. Go, aren’t you late?”

“Practice?” Minami’s eyes widen, all classes forgotten. “I’ve never heard you play! Not since our lessons!”

Yuuri feels like he knows where this increasingly awkward conversation is heading. But Minami speaks before Yuuri can come up with an excuse.

“Can I come? Can I watch? I want to be great, just like you!” He blushes again, looking embarrassed at his outburst. He has a fiery spirit and a fierce determination that Yuuri admires. But unfortunately that means he’s stubborn as hell, and Yuuri is rapidly losing his window of opportunity to turn him away. The boy would probably just follow, anyway.

“Okay,” he sighs, and they head towards the music wing, Minami brimming with excitement and Yuuri groaning inwardly. On the bright side, maybe some company will help distract him from his thoughts.

The two of them make their way through the many halls and rooms, and Yuuri sees plenty of his fellow Majors practicing diligently. He tries to ignore the sudden stab of guilt. Minami is looking around, energetic and beaming, and Yuuri has a brief sobering moment. He wishes he could have that same energy. That same inspiration. With time, Minami can go far with his talent. But what about himself? What inspires and excites him?

When they reach one of the mercifully empty practice rooms, Yuuri seats himself at one of the many keyboards, sighing wearily. He hears Minami gasp, and Yuuri guesses that he’s never seen them before. These keyboards must be a huge step up from whatever he’d been using in Japan, and his classes here so far haven’t reached the level required for this room. Yuuri feels that same stab of guilt as he runs his fingers lightly over the keys. He has a privilege that many others don’t. So why isn’t he trying harder?

As Minami pokes around the room curiously, Yuuri spends a few moments warming up his wrists and practicing scales. The image of Viktor at his grand relic of a piano comes to mind. These keyboards are nothing compared to that legend. Not even the grand pianos here at the university can compare. He wonders what it must feel like, to have such power beneath his fingers.

As he continues, he starts to feel it all come rushing back to him, and he takes a deep breath. Yes, he can feel it in his fingers, in his muscles, and his body moves before his mind does. Yes, he’s ready. But for what?

He picks out a few notes almost absently, repeating until he realizes that he’s slowly playing the beginning of Viktor’s piece. ‘Untitled.’ 

_“I wrote this for you.”_

For him? He shivers, continuing slowly, and a little clumsily. He starts over and over until he’s more sure, and when he straightens up, he feels something strange course through him. He thinks he hears a voice.

Yes, a voice ringing out clearly, like a delicate bell, and Yuuri realizes that it isn’t a voice -- it’s the sound of the keyboard singing beneath his fingers, and he sees his hands move fluidly, flying faster and faster without him, and he closes his eyes. He knows this by heart. He’s watched this, and it’s in his heart.

He hears it cry out again, that same voice, and his playing rises to meet it, and there’s something so urgent but so soft about the way they merge, the way it surges out of him. It rises and rises, but he doesn’t know where it's going, because he’s never been here before. He’s never felt this before. He feels his heart soar, and feels graceful, like he’s on ice, and the notes are the many scores left across the surface, marking the trail he’s blazed so far. But where is he going?

A sudden and ringing silence -- a hush, and then whispers, so soft, slow and sad notes plucked from midair, plucked from a broken heart. It all comes rushing back now, and with a series of frantic jolts, Yuuri feels it again, the same thing he had felt watching Viktor. The realization, the turning point, something in his life changing, and his fingers come down deftly and swiftly, heavy yet weightless, and he hears the singing again, two souls reaching towards a destiny unknown, and he nearly sobs, feeling something within him blossom, something within him start to understand -- but before he can grasp it, his fingers come to a steady and slow stop, resting gently now, the final notes echoing through his mind, through the room, through the world. His world. _Their_ world.

_Viktor._

Yuuri nearly screams when he hears clapping and cheering, because he had forgotten that Minami had been in the room the entire time.

“Wow!” the other boy gasps, vibrating with excitement. “Wow! That was amazing! Do you play like that all the time? You were so... intense!” He blushes at this, but his adoring gaze stays fixed on him. “I know that one! I’ve seen it online! The Ghost! Viktor! Right? That’s so amazing! I didn’t know anyone else could play it so perfectly!”

Yuuri has lost track of the number of awkward moments he’s experienced today. He struggles to think of a response.

“Um. I guess? And, uh, thanks?” Yuuri’s panting hard, shaking, exhilarated and a little scared. What _was_ that? He’s never played like that before. He’s never _felt_ like that before. He’s drained again, and feels like passing out. He’d rather be in his warm bed for that instead of slumping over the keyboard, so he stands, his legs trembling weakly as he makes his way out of the music wing in a daze.

He says his goodbyes to Minami as they part ways, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder that nearly sends him into cardiac arrest. Oops.

Yuuri stumbles into his room and hits his bed like a sack of bricks, curling up with his onigiri plush and knocking out instantly. He dreams of something soft and warm. It feels almost like home.

Phichit nudges him awake the next morning, whispering something to him urgently. Yuuri grumbles and tries to scoot away, but Phichit is insistent, poking at him until he stirs again. Yuuri huffs and sits up reluctantly, rubbing his eyes and squinting at him.

“Yuuri! You have to see this!”

“See what?” Yuuri sighs, grabbing for his glasses. “I hope it’s worth waking me up this early.”

“Oh, it’s worth it. Look!” Phichit hands him his phone. There’s a video loaded and ready to play, and through his sleepy haze, the preview looks like someplace familiar. Yuuri glances at the title to get an idea of what the hell he’s being forced to watch, then freezes.

_‘Untitled 2: Yuuri Katsuki.’_

No. No way.

His eyes dart to the description before the video starts, his heart racing.

_‘College Junior Yuuri Katsuki performs The Ghost’s ‘Untitled’ flawlessly!’_

No. No way. _No fucking way._

The video plays, and sure enough, there he is. He watches himself as he goes from practicing absently to suddenly lurching forward as though possessed, his fingers flying in a fast blur, his head bent, his brow furrowed, and his dark lashes brush his cheeks as he closes his eyes. There’s a longing in his face that’s almost desperate. 

Yuuri grinds his teeth as he watches. Minami had taken this video on his phone without Yuuri even noticing, then had uploaded it for the entire goddamned world to see.

His heart stops.

_Viktor would see it._

Yuuri scrambles for his own phone, meaning to call Minami before remembering that he had never gotten his number. He had probably forgotten that Minami even had one.

In any case, it doesn’t matter. The video is up, and at over 100k views, the damage has been done. Taking it down won’t do much. 

Yuuri flops back onto his bed, groaning loudly. He should have just stayed in his room yesterday, wallowing in his misery like he had planned. Phichit sits beside him, patting his head and looking very amused.

“Well, congrats, first of all. That was a fantastic performance! I’ve never seen that from you.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri groans again, “me neither.”

The rest of the day passes in a strange haze. As he travels throughout the campus, he feels the stares, hears the whispers. Some people come straight up to him, either praising his skill or expressing their amazement at his ballsy move. They all have the same question: how did he do it? Yuuri doesn’t know what to say.

On his way to his ensemble class, he passes Chris and Mila as they file out of the auditorium the Theatre and Dance Majors share. Chris immediately demands to know what had happened. He’s probably the hundredth person to ask, and Yuuri still doesn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know. One minute I was sitting there, and the next moment I...” he pauses. How can he describe it?

“You look like you went batshit crazy.” Chris suggests.

Yes. Batshit crazy. That seems about right. That’s definitely how he’s felt this entire week.

Mila gives him a very strange look, crossing her arms and chewing at her bottom lip. “What’ll you do if he sees it?”

Yuuri doesn’t have to ask who she means.

“Ritual suicide,” he says very nonchalantly. His two friends exchange sidelong glances, not entirely convinced that he’s joking. He isn’t very convinced, either.

Yuri corners Yuuri immediately after class, pulling him aside and hissing at him, inexplicably pissed. Yuuri tries to brace himself.

“What the hell was _that?”_

“You know, people keep asking me that, and I’d love to hear the answer, too.”

Yuri narrows his eyes at him for a bit, giving him the same look his sister had, then scowls and turns away.

“Come on. I’m starving.”

Yuuri tries not to grin too hard as he follows.

As he later heads back to his dorm for a small nap before his evening class, he has the long walk to think about how ridiculous this whole situation has been. This has escalated very quickly, and he’s still reeling, still wondering what, why, and _how?_ He’s getting very tired of asking himself these questions, especially since the entire world seems to be doing the same. He should just accept it and move on with his life.

He feels completely drained already, but he’s actually looking forward to sleeping for once. His dream the night before had still been hazy, but he had felt warm and happy, enveloped in something soft and sweet. He’s eager to feel that again.

And Phichit’s afternoon painting class would be over soon, meaning that Yuuri would have something warm and soft to cuddle outside of his dreams, too. He sighs happily, starting to feel more peaceful already.

Yuuri opens the door to his room, kicks off his shoes, sees Viktor Nikiforov sitting on his bed, drops his backpack onto the floor, and is halfway to the bathroom before he turns back around and screams.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added a few new tags! The last 5 or so on the list.

“Hi!”

Viktor Nikiforov, world-famous and most sought after Omega, the most elusive and mysterious man alive, is sitting on Yuuri’s bed, hugging his onigiri pillow and smiling as though Yuuri’s entire world isn’t currently collapsing.

Yuuri stares.

Viktor stares back, smiling in a way that makes Yuuri realize that he’s politely waiting for a response.

“I-I, I mean -- you, what --  _how,_ w-where did you -- I mean, I, u-um --”

Viktor smiles patiently at him, waiting for him to finish sputtering like a dying fish. Yuuri trails off into an awkward mumble, trembling hard and feeling his face go numb. What the _hell_ is this man doing here? How? _Why?_ This can’t be real. This has to be a dream.

But if this is a dream, what Viktor says next nearly puts him in a coma.

“Yuuri Katsuki! It’s nice to actually meet you. I’m Viktor, and I’m your soulmate.”

His smile is so very sweet, his tone casual and light, but Yuuri feels it heavy in his gut, and he feels light-headed now, his vision blurring and his hands trembling.

_Soulmate?_

“I’m -- you’re my, um, w-what,” Yuuri desperately attempts to put words together to make a sentence, “what do you mean?  _‘Soulmate?’_

Viktor’s smile falters, but just for a moment. “Yes, and I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Waiting,” Yuuri says faintly, trying to maintain consciousness, “for me? Waiting for _me?”_

If Viktor is growing annoyed with Yuuri’s idiotic parroting, he doesn’t show it. He seems to curl up into himself now, clutching Yuuri’s pillow closer to him. His long silver hair is flowing free, and Yuuri is lost in it, mesmerized. He wants to run his fingers through it. He wants to grasp it and pull it. His hands twitch. When Viktor speaks again, his voice is soft, almost hurt, and Yuuri feels almost sad, although he doesn’t know why. He can feel a haze creeping through his mind, and a chill runs down his spine. What the hell is this?

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, “I’ve been waiting. I told you, didn’t I? But you never came to find me. I know you’ve been watching me for a very long time. But you still never came to find me.”

Yuuri gapes at him, thunderstruck. This has to be some fever dream. He must be dying somewhere, and instead of his life flashing before his eyes, he’s here. In his dorm room. With Viktor Nikiforov.

The immense shock that he had been drowning in washes over him, retreating like the tide, and now he’s aware. Very aware. Viktor is sitting on _his_ bed, his arms around _his_ pillow, and Yuuri is now _very_ aware of this. Aware of his proximity, aware of his existence. Yuuri’s breathing quickens, his nostrils flaring, and Viktor must have noticed, because the look he’s giving him is so vulnerable, so inviting, that Yuuri's heart beats faster. The pillow is between Viktor’s legs now, because he leans back on his hands, his fingers grasping the bed sheets.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says again, the name rolling off his tongue in a way that makes Yuuri’s legs feel weak, “did you miss me? Because I missed you.” He looks him up and down, his eyes half-lidded and dark. “ _Badly._ ”

He tilts his head slightly, and his long hair flows back over his shoulder, exposing more of his neck. His neck, so soft and graceful, and Yuuri can see the pulse beneath his skin, and he can feel it within himself. A pulse. An ache.

Yuuri has about half a second to realize that he hasn’t detected Viktor’s scent yet before it hits him in a wave that feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. He reels, stumbling backwards, and he yelps as he drops into his chair at his desk. His last sliver of rational thought is thankful that it had been placed so conveniently. He’s gasping now, trembling, trying to see through a darkened and wild haze, and when he looks at Viktor again, the sight of him exposed, his throat bared and his legs beginning to spread, makes him start to shake, panting hard and fast.

He feels a familiar wild heat run rampant through his veins, and his senses become more keen as his desire grows maddening. He groans inwardly. In rut again, so soon? Has Viktor triggered that? He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care, because Viktor’s slender fingers are tugging at the collar of his shirt, the buttons already partially undone, and the sight of his collarbone has Yuuri drooling, his cock hardening, his jeans suddenly too tight for the bulk of it.

“Yuuri,” Viktor moans softly, desperately, and Yuuri snarls as he lunges out of his chair, sending it flying back against his desk, and he’s taken less than two steps towards him before Phichit chooses literally the worst time to come bursting in, his arms full of art supplies, a canvas tucked under one of them.

Phichit freezes, his eyes wide and fixed on the stranger on their bed. Viktor stares back, smiling politely at him. Phichit turns to Yuuri without a word, and Yuuri feels his panic rising as he, for some bizarre fucking reason, eyes the canvas.

“Is that another hamster?” he asks hysterically, and Viktor perks up.

“A hamster? Can I see?”

Phichit draws the canvas out from under his arm, his eyes never leaving Yuuri’s as he inches forward warily, and Viktor gently takes the painting out of his hands to inspect it.

“Hmm,” he hums, looking it up and down, “do you mind if I critique it? I’m a bit of an artist myself, you know. Even had an exhibition once -- though I forgot to show up for it.”

Phichit can only gape at him, and Viktor seems to take that as a ‘yes.’

“Your composition is fantastic, and you’ve got a very nice color palette going on. It’s still a bit muted, though, so I’d suggest just the smallest splash of a brighter color somewhere, otherwise the focal point is lost.” He smiles, handing it back. Phichit continues to gape as he accepts it.

There’s a long and very awkward silence. Viktor turns back to Yuuri, looking at him adoringly but expectantly.

“Well,” Phichit says, a bit too loudly, “I’m gonna go, um, I... told Seung-gil that I’d meet him later to... uh.” He looks like he’s struggling to come up with an excuse, and Yuuri continues to fight off his building hysteria.

“Study,” Phichit decides. He drops off his supplies, and Yuuri notices him stuff a small amount of spare clothing into his bag.

“Phichit,” he hisses, “don’t you fucking _dare --_ ”

But the other boy is already halfway out the door, and he winks at Yuuri as he goes.

The slam of the door echoes throughout the room, filling the silence that is now eating away at Yuuri’s sanity. He falls back into his chair, fighting off Viktor’s scent, fighting off his raging desire. He takes a slow and deep breath.

“Alright,” he says, his voice cracking. He clears his throat. “Alright. I need to understand just what the hell is happening.” Yuuri is in denial that it’s happening at all, but he figures he should humor whatever coma-induced hellhole he’s been sucked into. “Please, explain.”

Viktor gives him a bemused look. “Explain what? You called me, and now I’m here.”

Yuuri’s willing suspension of disbelief can only be stretched so far, but he continues to act out this delusion.

“Alright. How did I call you?”

“I felt it. Your soul cried out to mine, and then I saw the video, and I knew it was real. So I’m here,” he repeats, the first signs of doubt starting to show. His increasing confusion has Yuuri on edge.

“What,” Yuuri says slowly, patiently, “do you mean by that? How did my soul cry out to yours?”

Viktor frowns at him. “Through our Bond, of course. How else?”

Yuuri freezes, eyes wide. _Bond?_ No, this is just too much. This can't be real. This is bullshit and he needs to pull the plug and wake up.

“How can we Bond if I’ve never even met you?” Yuuri asks, his voice wavering. “That doesn’t make any sense. That’s not how it works.”

Viktor stares at him for what seems like an eternity, making Yuuri want to curl up and die. Viktor looks so hurt that Yuuri's stomach drops, and he feels that familiar haze tingle down his spine. He’s sad again, and he doesn’t know why.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says softly, finally lowering his eyes and breaking their gaze, “you don’t remember?”

Yuuri can feel his heart trying to rip itself out of his chest. What the hell is he supposed to remember? This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

“Remember what?”

Viktor’s head hangs down, his long and shining hair with it, obscuring his face. Yuuri wants to go to him, to take him in his arms and tell him that everything would be okay. But why?

“Why?” Viktor whispers. Yuuri starts, his mind suddenly reaching into the void of his dreams, and the word echoes over and over, a face stirring in the ashes of his soul, the lips moving without speaking. ‘ _Why?’_ Yuuri is speechless, nearly stunned, and Viktor continues. “I always wondered why. Why you never came to find me. I told you to, didn’t I? I told you to catch me.”

 _‘Catch me if you can_ ,’ his mind grasps again, a flash of wicked teeth, low and teasing laughter ringing in his ears, and Yuuri pales. He feels a realization start to bubble towards the surface of his thoughts, but he shoves it back. This can’t be real.

“When,” he says just as slowly as before, fighting the urge to pull at his own hair, “did you tell me to catch you?”

Viktor looks back up at him, tossing his hair out of his eyes, and Yuuri is pinned in place by an icy blue that numbs his brain and sends shivers down his spine.

“That night. At the club. I danced for you. And I told you.” Viktor still looks hurt, and Yuuri feels that same urge to protect him. He would do anything to protect him. 

Yuuri finally lets his thoughts burst out from where he had kept them locked away. Flashing lights, music heavy and growling, the same growling filling the room, filling the club. Crazed Alphas pushing and shoving. Howling. Tight muscles and tight clothing, and Yuuri can see the studded crystals gleaming. He can taste Viktor’s sweat on his tongue. And eyes, glinting and mischievous. Looking at him. Looking at _him_. 

He had known this. Deep down, somewhere hidden and in pieces, he had known.

“Was I the one taking that video?”

There’s a short pause.

“Yes,” Viktor says finally. Yuuri is too numb to react. “And,” Viktor adds, “I took your phone. Right then and there. I uploaded the video, knowing you would find it. Hoping that you’d know I was waiting. I thought it would make the game more --”

“Is this a game to you?” Yuuri asks faintly, his gaze distant but his eyes never leaving Viktor’s face. “Is that what this is? Is that what the past few months have been to you? A game?”

Viktor looks surprised, then starts to look uncomfortable. “W-well, I mean, I thought that you would try harder. I gave you a challenge, but you didn’t take it.” His gaze wavers, and he's suddenly unable to keep eye contact with Yuuri. “I’ve always wondered why you didn’t want to come look for me. I made videos for you to find. I wrote a piece and played it for you. I sent you the dreams --”

“ _What?_ ” Yuuri says sharply. Viktor looks surprised again. “What the fuck does that mean?” He feels the panic he had tried so hard to suppress come shooting back up. Dreams? _Those_ dreams? Viktor’s discomfort is so great that he starts to fidget a bit.

“Yes,” he says slowly, “I... I thought that you might... I sent them, and we both felt them. Through our Bond. But it wasn’t strong enough.” Viktor frowns now, his gaze somewhere far away. “Why? Why isn’t our Bond strong enough?”

Yuuri’s lost in thought now, too, his dreams on replay, and he recalls flesh, blood, something wet and pulsing and screaming and _begging_ him, and he shivers hard. Viktor had sent him those dreams. And he said he had felt them himself? Had he dreamed of Yuuri pinning him down, biting and snarling, piercing him and filling him until he was broken and sobbing? Viktor’s scent fills his nostrils again, and Yuuri tries to clear his head.

But the new dreams. The ones that scared him. The ones that sucked him in, devouring his sanity, shaking him to the core, making him feel lost, helpless, and a voice crying in the distance that echoes over and over. Something scared and alone and abandoned. Something hopeless.

“Why did you send the new dreams?” Yuuri has given into this absurd shitshow, accepting that fact that his supposed soulmate had been fucking with his mind over some sort of Bond that had never actually happened. Viktor looks so sad that Yuuri feels like weeping. He thinks he can see tears in his eyes, and he blinks back his own.

“I gave up,” Viktor whispers. “I stopped. You never came to catch me. So I gave up.”

Yuuri recalls the strange feeling that had surged through him that day, the day he had watched Viktor’s video, those blue eyes piercing through his very soul. Something had changed. Yuuri had felt love, but Viktor had lost it. And then the dreams had started.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor says quietly. Yuuri is surprised at this. “I didn’t mean to send those. I just...” he starts to tremble, and Yuuri’s heart cries out, “I felt lost. I’m sorry.”

Yuuri stares, his mind racing, desperately grasping for answers. This isn’t how he had planned their first meeting in his fantasies. This isn’t the Viktor he had obsessed over for years. This isn't the cunning and suave trickster of his dreams. Who is this man?

Whoever he is, Yuuri suddenly finds himself by his side, and in an insane and thoughtless act, he reaches out to brush soft silver strands from his face, tucking them behind his ear. His hand lingers for a moment, and Viktor turns to look at him. His eyes are so blue and so close, and Yuuri feels himself drowning in them, drowning in an icy mist. When Viktor speaks again, Yuuri can’t keep his eyes from straying to lush and quivering lips.

“Then you called for me. I heard you call. I felt it go through me. I felt _you_. I heard your soul crying for mine, heard it echo throughout my world.”

“ _Our_ world,” Yuuri says softly, and something flashes in Viktor’s eyes that makes him want to lean forward into him. He wants him close. He wants _him_.

Viktor’s head tilts slightly again, and Yuuri’s eyes stray to his neck. So long and slender. He bets the skin is soft. He bets it would bruise easily beneath his fingers. He licks his lips. A jolt runs down his spine as Viktor lifts a finger and brushes under his chin, beckoning him closer. His scent is powerful again, enveloping him in something warm, and Yuuri feels that same jolt run down to his cock.

But something in his mind is screaming at him. Something isn’t right. He jerks back, almost unwillingly, and Viktor’s finger slips away from him. The hurt in Viktor’s face makes Yuuri wince, feeling it himself. No, something isn’t right.

“I-I,” he stammers, trying to look anywhere but at the eyes that bore through him, “I’m sorry, I just... this is wrong.”

Viktor gapes at him in disbelief. “ _Wrong?_ ”

“Yes,” Yuuri says, his voice trembling as hard as his body, “something is wrong. It’s not supposed to be like this. It’s not supposed to happen this way.”

Viktor continues to stare, clearly waiting for an explanation. Yuuri struggles to tear his eyes away from his throat.

“We were supposed to meet. Not here, but somewhere... I don’t know. Somewhere more special,” Yuuri says, suddenly feeling stupid and childish, “a-and, we were...” he pauses, closing his eyes as the rest comes out in a quick and jumbled mess, “we were supposed to meet and fall in love, and we were supposed to mate and Bond, and...” he falters. The silence on Viktor’s part makes him open his eyes again.

Viktor’s face is almost expressionless. Yuuri can see a lingering confusion that borders on frustration.

“Love?” He says it as if it’s a foreign word that he doesn’t understand. “But we’re already in love. We Bonded.” He looks uncertain now. “Isn’t that what love is?”

Yuuri doesn’t know what love is, but he knows that it isn’t this. He has to focus. He has to think. What is wrong about this?

“You keep saying that we Bonded. But what do you mean by that? Like, exactly what you mean. Specifically. No more cryptic crap.”

Viktor gives him a look that’s almost patronizing, but Yuuri’s sure he doesn’t mean for it to be.

“Don’t you know what a Bond is? A Bond between an Alpha and an Ome-”

“Yes,” Yuuri cuts him off, “yes, I know. But that kind of thing is supposed to be...” he pauses, trying to think of the word. “Mutual?”

Viktor’s eyes widen, alarmed. Yuuri feels alarmed as well. What the hell had he said wrong?

“Are you saying our Bond isn’t mutual? Are you saying,” Viktor's voice wavers slightly, “you don’t feel it? You don’t feel that way about me?”

Yuuri frantically tries to think of a response. What _does_ he feel? It can’t be love, but it isn’t just lust, either. Although, lust is definitely the majority of it. That thought leaves him feeling a little guilty. But no, his feelings for Viktor are significant. They always have been. That's why Bonding with him had been his dream. But this isn't a dream, it's reality. So he has to think.

“It’s not that,” he says finally, “I just... I don’t feel like our Bond is complete. Like, maybe something went wrong?”

Viktor frowns, but in a sort of thoughtful way. He clearly wants to get this clusterfuck figured out, too. In the silence, Yuuri’s brain struggles for an answer. What is a Bond? He knows it’s a strong link between an Alpha and an Omega. How it happens isn’t exactly certain. For many, it seems to happen during mating, with the odds much higher when their heat and rut cycles are in sync. But it’s not uncommon for two souls to link in other ways. It can sort of just happen, if the feelings between the two are strong enough, before they even mate. And sometimes, though very rare, it can happen at first sight.

_‘Soulmate.’_

Yuuri pushes that thought away immediately. No, that’s just stupid. Think. Focus. Something is tugging at his mind, something he’s just thought of, something...

“First sight,” he blurts out, startling Viktor. “Sorry,” he adds sheepishly.

“First sight? Is that when we fell in love? That’s how I felt when our eyes met. When I was right in front of you. I saw myself in your eyes.”

Yuuri blinks at him. In his eyes? He struggles for an answer again. A Bonded pair tends to share feelings, dreams, thoughts. Could they see through each others’ eyes? Is that possible? Because he definitely can’t remember seeing himself through Viktor’s eyes.

“I don’t remember,” he says suddenly. He feels the small pang of hurt that shows on Viktor’s face. “I mean, I don’t remember looking at myself. I don’t think it even happened at all. I was...” he realizes something, and feels like an idiot for not seeing what had been right under his nose.

“I was drunk. Like, blackout drunk. I don’t remember anything. At least, nothing consciously? If we Bonded, but I don’t remember, if I couldn’t... Bond back?” He’s struggling again, trying to understand what does and doesn’t make sense. “Then I guess it doesn’t count? I guess --” he freezes, because Viktor pales, looking stricken, his eyes wide. Yuuri can feel the panic rising within him.

“I Bonded with you, but you didn’t Bond with me? That...” he falters for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth nervously, “I didn’t... does that mean I-I mean, I never meant to force --”

Yuuri gestures wildly, shaking his head and throwing his hands up, seeing where Viktor is heading with this.

“No! That --  _no,_ you didn’t... I mean, you didn’t know --”

“And _you_ didn’t know, either.”

There’s a very awkward silence. The two of them stare at each other for some time.

“This has been a... misunderstanding,” Yuuri starts, and Viktor snorts at this. “Yeah, I know that’s a huge understatement,” he adds, “but it is what it is.”

“So, how do we fix it?”

Yuuri grows quiet, his mind starting to race, and his pulse races along with it. Fix it? Fixing a Bond between an Alpha and an Omega. Fixing a Bond. Making it real. A true Bond. Agreeing to fix their Bond carries the implication that Yuuri wants their Bond to be real just as much as Viktor does. And he does.

And what would that result in? If they fix their Bond, what would they become? Together? Him. Viktor Nikiforov. Bonded. _Together?_

Yuuri had been right before. His life has descended into a shitty romantic-comedy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri loves himself some jelly-filled donuts.

Viktor looks at Yuuri in alarm as he sees him rise from the bed.

“Where are you going?”

Yuuri, still reeling from the revelation that he’d just been struck with, nearly doesn’t hear him. His echoing thoughts have drowned out every other noise in the room.

Him. Viktor. Bonded.  _Together._

“I’m going to class,” Yuuri says, faintly. So much for the nap he had been looking forward to. But he’s almost grateful. He needs to get out and clear his head. He needs Viktor’s scent out of his skin.

The look on Viktor’s face tells Yuuri that he should have kept this information to himself.

“Class? Can I come with you?” Viktor looks so eager that Yuuri feels guilty when he quickly shuts him down.

“No! I-I mean,” he looks away awkwardly, “that’s not a good idea at  _all._ No one even knows you’re here.” He pauses, shooting Viktor a look that he seems to read immediately. Maybe this Bond thing’s useful, after all.

“No one knows. I have ways,” he adds with a wink and a sneaky grin. Yuuri feels his stomach twist. That grin. So like the one he’d fallen in love with. Viktor answers his next question before Yuuri has even formed it in his mind.

“Your room was easy to get into. I’m great at lockpicking! You’d think such a nice university would ensure better safety for their students,” he says, shaking his head in disappointment.

“I don’t think anyone’s insurance is prepared for you, Viktor,” Yuuri says dryly, gathering his things and hefting his bag onto his shoulder. He starts to make his way to the door, then pauses, turning back to him.

“Stay. Don’t follow me. Okay? Just stay here and,” he pauses again, reddening slightly, “uh, stay and behave.”

Viktor nods obediently, his gaze fond, nearly worshiping, and Yuuri has to turn and go before his face bursts into flames. He sees Viktor snatch up the onigiri plush and bury his face into it as he leaves.

Yuuri’s mind races as he heads towards his evening class. He’s come to accept what had happened, because he feels like it’s better than the alternative -- locking himself in the bathroom and screaming for days.

Yes, he has to move on. Viktor Nikiforov is here. He’s real. And he’s Yuuri’s, apparently. Yuuri shivers, and although the chill wind has very little to do with it, he pulls his jacket tighter around himself.

What should he even do with him? Would he be staying? What about Phichit? Would Viktor take the spare bed on the other side of the room, or would he demand to sleep with Yuuri? And how the absolute fuck would Yuuri get  _any_ sleep if he has to lie next to  _Viktor fucking Nikiforov?_

He shivers again, bundling himself tighter. He doesn’t want to think about this now. These questions are future Yuuri’s problems.

He takes a deep breath, and he can still smell Viktor on him. Is it just his imagination? He thinks he sees people glancing at him, but then again, people always do. His own scent is powerful enough to attract attention, and with his recent fifteen minutes of internet fame, it’s not surprising to feel so many eyes on him.

But he swears he sees a few Alphas in particular look his way. They look puzzled. Yuuri takes another slow and deep breath and ignores them. He has to act calm.

This doesn’t exactly go as planned, because he jumps in surprise when he feels an arm thrown around his shoulder, followed by boisterous shouting in his ear.

“Well, look who it is!”

Yuuri winces, trying to wriggle away as nicely as possible.

“Hi, JJ. What’s up?”

Jean-Jacques hasn’t released his grip on him, shaking him and laughing. Very loudly. He’s... a bit of a character, Yuuri thinks. He isn’t a bad guy or anything, but he likes to act as though Yuuri’s his best friend, especially when they’re in public.

JJ’s a Beta, and he seems to have taken that as a personal challenge. He tends to go around acting as though he’s an Alpha, and he had wasted no time trying to ally himself with Yuuri once he had enrolled. JJ’s a freshman, making him the third to have immediately come after him as soon as the term started. Yuuri’s not looking forward to next year’s wave of overly energetic students.

JJ claps him on the shoulder now, beaming at him. His girlfriend, Isabella, trails behind him. Despite her attitude, Yuuri thinks she’s a saint for putting up with him, but he’s never once seen her look embarrassed.

“It’s been a while, Yuuri! You smell different, what’s your secret?”

Yuuri knows that JJ can’t scent him at all, but that doesn’t stop those around them from looking their way. Yuuri catches the eyes of more Alphas than he had before, and this time their gazes linger. Yuuri can see a few scenting the air.

“I switched to a new shampoo. I gotta go, see you later,” he says hurriedly, nearly sprinting away as JJ shouts after him cheerfully.

Yuuri rubs at his neck a bit fitfully as he settles down in the lecture hall, trying to scent himself as discreetly as he can. He hopes he can cover up Viktor’s with his own. He’s apparently done a shitty job, because he sees Sara, in the row in front of his, turn to face him, looking surprised.

“Yuuri,” she whispers, looking a bit coy, and Yuuri has to look away. Sara’s very pretty, and she makes him nervous. “You have someone? And you weren’t gonna tell me? Rude!”

“I-I, um, I don’t know what you mean?”

Sara’s twin, Michele, turns to face him from where he’s seated next to her. He’s a Beta, and clearly can’t tell what the hell they’re talking about. Which makes him immediately suspicious. Then again, he’s just that sort of person in general.

“What are you saying to this perv, sis?”

Yuuri flushes, indignant. He gets piss-drunk at a party and strips  _one time_ , and suddenly he’s a pervert? 

“Yuuri’s got himself a mate,” Sara says, grinning. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Mila!”

 _Shit._ Viktor’s scent must be that obvious. Everyone’s going to assume that he’s taken, and no one’s going to let him hear the end of it. Everyone will want to know which lucky Omega has finally made their way into his heart. Or his pants.

Yuuri doesn’t want to think about either of those things right now.

A blessed distraction comes in the form of a text from Phichit.

_You guys done in there? Is it safe to go back?_

Yuuri’s face is bright red as he types back furiously.

_I’m in class, and fuck you, first of all, for pulling that shit because I could have died._

_So dramatic LOL and you should thank me!_

Yuuri’s eye twitches.

_We didn’t fuck if that’s what you’re trying to ask. And don’t, because it’s a long story. Are you coming back tonight?_

_You want me to?_

Yuuri pauses. He frowns. Does he? He chews his lip nervously, then slowly taps out a response.

_No._

He closes his eyes. What is he doing? No, he doesn’t want to think about this anymore. He tries to focus for the rest of the lecture, pretending there isn't a problem waiting for him when it's over.

When he returns to his dorm, he hesitates at the door, pushing it open slowly. He enters quietly when there's no immediate response, and when he sees Viktor, he stops dead in his tracks.

Viktor is sound asleep on his bed, curled into a snug ball. His arms are wrapped tight around the onigiri pillow, his face buried into it. Long silver hair is fanned out around him, and Yuuri can’t tear his eyes away from the strands that lie across his face. He wants to brush them away. He wants to sit beside him and watch over him. He wants to protect him, to make sure that no one will ever disturb him.

But the moment doesn’t last long, because Viktor stirs, and Yuuri can see him scent the air when he draws his face from the pillow.

“Yuuri?”

His voice is so sleepy that it’s cute, and Yuuri tries his best to fight down the blood rushing to his face. He can hear Viktor start to purr, and his breath catches in his throat. He'd always dreamed of Viktor purring. Purring for _him_. He drops his bag and starts to strip down into his clothes for the night, and he can feel Viktor’s eyes glued to him, awake and alert now.

Yuuri is in the middle of realizing that he doesn't know what to say back when Viktor's scent slowly envelopes him, seeming to drug him where he stands. He wheels to face him and sees him sitting up now, looking coy and inviting.

"Are you coming to bed, Yuuri?"

Yuuri is. He comes to bed, and he sits beside Viktor, leaning into him. Viktor leans forward eagerly, then finally registers Yuuri's expression and draws away, startled.

Yuuri's eyes are stern and intent. He can feel a twinge of confusion from Viktor’s end, maybe even fear, and he fights down his guilt. This is more important.

“Stop doing that.”

Viktor’s eyes widen as he stares, uncomprehending. Yuuri wills himself not to give in to them, so big and so blue. He's close enough to see himself reflected in them.

“S-stop, um,” he stutters, trying not to blush now, because Viktor’s so close that he can feel his heat, “I -- just stop. Stop using your scent against me.”

The look on Viktor’s face tells Yuuri that he’s never heard these words directed towards him in his entire life, nor has he ever expected to.

“What?” he says faintly.

“This is supposed to work, right? We’re supposed to fix this? If that... if that means,” Yuuri takes a deep breath, finally forcing himself to say the words he’s been refusing to acknowledge. “If fixing our Bond means falling in love, it has to happen. Naturally, I mean? Not...  _this._ ”

There’s a small silence in which Yuuri struggles to stay still, because he’s still leaning into Viktor, and he’s shaking. They both are. Yuuri feels a sudden pang of an emotion he can’t describe, but Viktor’s face is blank.

“Oh,” he finally says, softly, “I see. If you... if you want me to...”

He trails off, but Yuuri feels his scent retreat, fading until it’s completely undetectable. Despite everything, he’s incredibly impressed.

“How do you do that, anyway?

Viktor gives him a sly smile, but his heart doesn’t seem to be in it.

“I can do a lot of things, Yuuri. I can show you sometime, if you want.”

His attempt at flirting falls flat, and they just sort of stare at each other. Yuuri tries very hard to quiet the voice that’s starting to scream internally.

Viktor rises suddenly, and Yuuri has to fight the urge to grab his hand and beg him to stay. Viktor looks down at him, and his words are hesitant and unsure.

“I can sleep in the other bed. I’m sorry. I promise I won’t bother you again.”

Yuuri wants to drop to his knees, but he swallows hard and nods instead. This is probably for the best. He knows he’d tear Viktor apart if they were to share a bed. He hopes Viktor doesn’t pick up on his thoughts, or on the shiver that runs down his spine now.

Viktor turns towards the other bed, then stops, realizing that he’s still clutching Yuuri’s pillow to his chest. He hands it out to him, mumbling an apology and looking away. Yuuri has a small internal struggle before he sighs.

“Keep it. Borrow it, I mean,” he corrects himself quickly. Viktor looks back at him in surprise, and Yuuri can see his cheeks start to flush. He hugs it against himself again, and Yuuri is reminded of a lost and frightened child.

“Thank you,” he says softly. Their eyes lock, and Yuuri feels a familiar tingling in the back of his skull. But Viktor turns away again, and it’s gone. Yuuri’s eyes follow, but then he freezes when he sees the spare bed.

Every time Yuuri and Phichit move into a new dorm room, they share one of the beds, leaving the other one abandoned. They affectionately refer to it as ‘The Shit Bed,’ because it often ends up covered in random piles of their shit. Yuuri rushes forward, embarrassed, scrambling at the heaps of clothing, textbooks, and other miscellaneous shits that are thrown everywhere.

“S-sorry, I’m an idiot, I should have... uh...”

When he finally brings himself to look back at Viktor, he’s surprised to see a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“And I thought I was a mess.”

Yuuri snorts, and the tension is broken, releasing into something that makes the both of them visibly relax. But not entirely, because Viktor plops himself down onto the bed once it’s cleared, and when he looks up at Yuuri, his gaze is just as longing as ever. There are still strands of hair that Yuuri would like to brush away from his face.

“Good night,” Yuuri says quickly, flicking off the lights as he rushes to his own bed. It’s still pretty early for sleep, especially for a college kid, but he’s so exhausted from today’s clusterfuck that he needs to pass out immediately. He can feel his eyelids grow heavy, and he instinctively reaches for Phichit, forgetting that he’d asked him not to come back to their room tonight. He suddenly feels very alone.

Viktor’s scent may have stopped radiating from his body, but Yuuri thinks he can still smell him on his pillow. He curls up, just as Viktor had, and he feels warm arms around him, but when he opens his eyes, there’s no one there. But he’s still warm, and as he finally drifts away, he thinks he can hear a steady heartbeat against his own.

He dreams in whispers and in soft touches, and when he wakes, Viktor’s scent is as strong as ever.

Yuuri struggles up out of bed only to find that Viktor is gone.

Yuuri fights for control over the panic that shoots through his sluggish body. Viktor isn’t in bed. He isn’t in the bathroom either, and Yuuri has run out of places to check. He stands in the middle of the room, mind racing, then finally notices his phone flashing. A text is waiting.

_Hi!!! Don’t worry, I’ll come back! Don’t miss me too much!_

Yuuri stares down at his phone in disbelief. To be honest, the idea of Viktor owning a phone isn’t one that had ever occurred to him. He’s too used to the idea of him being utterly untraceable, utterly unreachable. So unless he’s using a trap phone, he’s here, in plain sight, and the realization is a bit unsettling. This man is becoming too real. But what does that even mean?

And more importantly, where the hell had he gone? Yuuri can’t imagine Viktor strolling into a supermarket to buy a fucking gallon of milk or something ridiculously mundane. Is he pulling a stunt somewhere? But why?

His nose twitches. He can still smell him. How? It’s making him twitchy and anxious. He feels an itch that he can’t scratch.

He finds himself drawn to the other bed. Viktor’s bed, now. The sheets are messy and unmade, and he can still see the imprint of his body, the curve in the pillow where his head had rested. He reaches out to touch it on impulse, and shivers. Viktor had been here. The thought is still hard to get over.

He’s on the bed now without even realizing it, and he sits there awkwardly. He can still smell him. His skin tingles with every breath he takes. He suddenly catches sight of his onigiri pillow.

There it is. It smells so strongly of Viktor that Yuuri grabs it up almost possessively, although towards which, he isn’t sure. He buries his face into it and inhales. 

_Yes._

Viktor’s scent is so strong and so sweet, deeply infused into the plush, and Yuuri squeezes it, wishing it were Viktor himself. He shivers hard. He squeezes it again.

The rut he had gone into the day before when Viktor had first arrived had cycled out of him quickly, thankfully. But he feels it creeping back, and he groans. This is the most irregular cycle he’s ever had, but he can’t stop the stinging he feels in his veins. He can feel his senses open wider, and when he squeezes the pillow again, he can nearly feel Viktor’s skin. He licks his lips, feeling himself start to drool.

The plush is in his lap now, because he’s trying to push down the cock growing hard in his briefs. He needs to stop but he can’t, because Viktor’s scent is piercing him, filling him. 

He rolls over suddenly, the plush trapped beneath him, and he takes a deep and shuddering breath, gripping the sheets hard, his face burning. Fuck. He’s so hard. It hurts. He squirms, gasping as his cock rubs against the onigiri plush.  _Fuck._

He whimpers, his face bright red, embarrassed and heated, and he mounts it and jerks his hips against it, gasping again. Fuck, it feels so  _good_. It feels like Viktor.

His head is bent, his chest heaving as he pants, and he bucks again, desperately rubbing himself onto it, and he can feel Viktor underneath him, feel him twisting and pushing back up against him. The friction between his briefs and the large plush has him moaning, his eyes starting to roll as he ruts against it harder.

Yuuri wants to mark it. He wants his scent all over Viktor’s. He wants to own it, to make it his.

His hips move faster once he finds a steady pace, and he grabs the sheets harder, biting his lip to quiet himself. He can feel a growl building in his throat, but it falters into a whimper as he fucks against the pillow harder in a way that makes him weak.

 _“Viktor,”_ he moans, unable to muffle it any longer, and he pants faster, gasping and groaning, hearing the bed start to creak as his pace quickens.

He’s so hard and still aching, and he wants to go until he’s satisfied, which he knows can last all day and all night. He growls now, his hands clawing at the sheets, and his jerking becomes rougher, more frustrated and aggressive, and he wishes he had something to bite. Something to tear.

He’s drooling, and it’s thick and dripping as he pants and snarls, and he can feel himself edging, and he wants to slow down, to take his time, to fuck Viktor for as long as possible, but he feels a jolt run through him, and he buries his face into Viktor’s pillow, trying to muffle the cries tearing from his throat as he thrusts hard enough for the bed frame to knock against the wall.

When he bites into the pillow, snarling viciously, the taste of Viktor’s skin bursts in his mouth, and he howls as he comes hard into his briefs. His hips jerk wildly, his cock spurting in hot and thick bursts, and he gasps and whimpers, trembling hard in ecstasy, his eyes rolling back as he comes again. His thighs shake hard, his whole body quivering, and Yuuri’s about to go for a third orgasm when the door slams open.

His head jerks up, his face in flames, and Phichit stands in the doorway, gaping at him. Yuuri is slowly losing his mind.

“I thought the door was locked,” he says, his voice high and panicky.

“Yes. I have a key. I live here.”

“Oh.”

There’s a drawn out silence. Phichit looks like he can’t tear his eyes away from what he’s seeing, although he very much wants to. Yuuri feels the same way.

“So,” Phichit finally says, “is humping a pillow, like, a dominance thing, or -- God  _NO_ , don’t throw it, that’s  _disgusting! YUURI!_ ”

Yuuri huffs off towards the bathroom, in need of the world’s longest and most relaxing bath. He scrubs himself twice as hard as ever, determined to lose Viktor's lingering scent. This doesn't seem to work much.

When he returns, he braces himself for the expectant look Phichit is bound to give him. That exact look is fixed on him now, and Yuuri sees the beginning of a shit-eating grin start to form as he spins in his desk chair to face him.

“Well? Can’t go a minute not on top of him without trying to top everything else?”

“I never was on top of him,” Yuuri says hotly, shaking droplets from his hair and rummaging through the piles of clothing on the floor.

“Wait,  _still?”_ Phichit’s disbelief is nearly as strong as Yuuri’s has been the last twenty-four hours. “But... what the hell happened when I was gone?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Yuuri, don’t give me tha-”

“I mean it. Nothing. That’s what happened. Just... nothing.”

Phichit frowns, turning slowly in his chair. Yuuri takes his own beside him, and they both sit there, tense and confused.

“Uh. Sorry. Why didn’t anything happen? Haven’t you... I mean, you’ve always... uh...”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri says softly. “He’s... not what I expected. And that made me realize that my dream of meeting him was kinda stupid, because I don’t even know who he is. And now we have to fix what’s broken between us.”

“Broken?” Phichit asks, puzzled. “What does that mean?”

Phichit is aware, for the most part, of the different ways in which Alphas and Omegas can connect. Yuuri had taught him about Bonding, because for years he had confided in him, as good friends do, about his dream of finding a mate. He had to find one, because he was supposed to, and he wanted to do his best to be a good Alpha.

“We Bonded,” Yuuri explains, “and it, uh, didn’t exactly go according to plan. There was no plan, actually. It was an accident.”

“So,” Phichit draws out, trying to find the right words, “you guys are stuck like this? Stuck until you find a way out?”

Yuuri frowns at this. Stuck? A way out? No, that doesn’t sound right.

“Wow, don’t say it like we’re prisoners shackled together.”

“That’s marriage,” Phichit points out, grinning. Yuuri scowls at him to hide his smile, but it dies soon after. He breaks their gaze, looking at the floor instead. He doesn’t even want to consider the idea that Viktor had forced him into this. He knows that neither of them had expected this to happen. But stuck? No, never. He just wants to make things work the way they should have worked the day they had first laid eyes on each other.

“No,” Yuuri says, sighing, “we aren’t stuck. I mean, we are, but we want to be together.” His eyes widen, and he bites his lip. He hadn’t meant to say that. He’s hardly even come to terms with it, so what the hell is he talking about?

“So,” Phichit says again, “you need to really fall in love with him for this Bond to work. Right? And he needs to really fall in love with you.”

Yuuri considers this. Viktor needs to fall in love with him. How? Yuuri still can’t quite understand the way Viktor feels about him, other than the fact that it borders heavily on pure infatuation.

“Yeah. I guess that’s exactly what has to happen."

“Wow,” Phichit laughs, “what kind of rom-com garbage is this?”

Yuuri wishes that he knew the answer.

Phichit convinces him to come out with him to lunch, and Yuuri soon finds himself shrugging his jacket off in the middle of a warm cafe just outside the campus. Phichit goes to order, and Yuuri falls heavily into one of the booths, the weary sigh building in his chest whooshing out in a surprised wheeze when he checks his phone.

His notifications have just blown up, because Viktor had been spotted.

But he'd been seen in a city several states away. Where the hell is he?

Viktor hadn't pulled any sort of stunt, at least. Someone had simply gotten a whiff and a glimpse of him and had posted about it, complete with a distant and blurry photo. But it had escalated. 

He reads a thread of comments full of Alphas joking about what they'd like to do to Viktor if they ever caught him. Yuuri grinds his teeth furiously, feeling a sudden heat that seems to radiate from him. He sees a few Omegas in the cafe look at him, startled, then coy. Yuuri watches one tug at the neckline of her shirt, but he turns back to his phone. Viktor is the only thing that matters right now. Not even his rut can change that.

Where _is_ he?

Phichit comes back with their food, seating himself across from him and giving him a strange look. Phichit may be a Beta, but he's learned to pick up on a few cues.

"You alright? Why are people staring? Is it that time of month?"  
  
Yuuri lets out a strangled laugh, taken by surprise.  
  
"No, it's that time of _week._ I can't seem to stop this shit." He puts his phone away, trying not to make his discomfort obvious, but Phichit sees right through him. Yuuri gives in, answering him before he even asks.  
  
"Viktor's appeared somewhere. He's not in the city anymore. I don't know why."

Yuuri tries to suppress his raging anxiety, but one last thought manages to break out before he can hide it away.

Will Viktor actually come back?

He doesn't want to think about it.

Phichit gives him a sloppy kiss on the cheek as they part ways on campus, telling him not to miss him too much and to stay away from his pillow while he's in the studio. Yuuri doesn't even have the energy to bite him.

He heads back to his dorm to pass out, feeling his stress manifesting itself into physical exhaustion. It's the weekend, and he doesn't have Phichit's same dedication to his craft on his day off. So it's time to go back to sleep.  
  
When he enters his dorm room, he's faced with another surprise that makes him wonder how often he's going to spend the rest of the term dreading opening his door.  
  
Viktor's there.  
  
Viktor's stuff is also there.  
  
Yuuri sees a couple of suitcases and bags thrown around. Some of them have burst open, clothes strewn out from them like entrails, and Yuuri sees them leading to the spare bed. He pales.  
  
"Yuuri!"  
  
Viktor is perched on the bed, beaming at him. His long hair is up in a messy bun, and he's wearing one of Yuuri's old shirts. It's baggy on Yuuri, but on Viktor, it stretches tightly over his broad shoulders, and it rides up, exposing a strip of his stomach. Yuuri stares, feeling his fingers flex instinctively.  
  
"Vik- what, what are you --" he stops, seeing that Viktor's sitting in the middle of a circle of both of their clothing on the bed. There's an assortment of random items and soft cushions placed haphazardly, and Yuuri's face reddens hotly when he sees his onigiri plush in Viktor's lap.  
  
"Viktor," he hisses, "you can't just nest in the middle of my dorm roo-- are those Phichit's things, too? Give them back!"  
  
Viktor gives him the sort of guilty look that reminds Yuuri of a puppy being scolded, and his eye twitches. No, he can't give in.  
  
"But, Yuuri... I'm staying here, so I needed my things! And I feel a lot better when I can smell you." He says this almost shyly, and Yuuri caves. "This one has a _really_ heavy scent, so it's my favorite," Viktor adds, squeezing the onigiri and smiling sweetly at him. Yuuri tries not to collapse.  
  
"O-okay, well, give back Phichit's stuff, at least."  
  
Viktor sighs, handing him back a couple of shirts, a pillow, and a hamster painting. He hands this last one back very reluctantly, so Yuuri lets him keep it. He silently invites him to take the others, too.  
  
"You worried me, you know. You can't just disappear like that. Where did you even go?"  
  
"Well, I needed my things, so I went on a trip with Yakov, and --"  
  
"Who?" Yuuri is absolutely floored. He had never considered the fact that Viktor might actually know people. People with names. _Real_ people. Family?  
  
"Yakov," Viktor repeats cheerfully. "He takes me everywhere. He makes sure I'm not seen."  
  
"Well, he's not doing a great job, because someone spotted you in another city. How did you even get there?"  
  
Viktor's grin is the slyest Yuuri has ever seen it.  
  
"I posted that. Nobody saw me. I wasn't even an hour away. And in the opposite direction."  
  
Yuuri gapes at him.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well, you were worried about people thinking I was here. Now they think I'm there. See?"  
  
"Yeah," Yuuri says slowly, relieved and impressed, "but where did Yakov take you, then?"  
  
"Dunno," Viktor says, shrugging, "a hotel somewhere. My stuff was waiting for me already. Yakov always comes when I call him. He takes care of me."  
  
Yuuri has a sudden revelation.  
  
"Is he the reason why you're never caught? Is he the reason why you appear and disappear everywhere?"  
  
Viktor laughs, and the mischievous glint in his eyes is nearly blinding. Yuuri feels himself blushing.  
  
"A magician never reveals his secrets! But, yes. Yakov keeps me safe." He says this last bit softly, smiling to himself.  
  
"Is he family? Did you hire him?"  
  
Viktor laughs harder.  
  
"Oh, he'd explode if he heard either of those things! No, Yakov is," he pauses, cocking his head to the side, "an old friend. Maybe like family, though he'd deny it. He hates my family."  
  
Yuuri stares at him for a while. Viktor starts to grow uneasy under his gaze, but Yuuri is lost in thought. He's just learned more about Viktor in the past five minutes than he's ever known in the years he'd spent obsessively stalking him. He can't describe what he's feeling right now, but he thinks he can see it reflected in Viktor's face for a moment.

He wants to ask Viktor about his family, but has a feeling that he would change the subject. He finds himself speechless, and as he searches for something to say, he glances down at Viktor's crap thrown everywhere. He freezes.

One of the bags has fallen open, and what he sees spilling out of it makes his face turn bright red and his breath catch sharply in his throat.

Viktor sees him gaping at his vast assortment of sex toys, and he smiles at him warmly.

"For my heat cycle! I have to have _something_ , you know," he says, averting his eyes coyly. Yuuri's jaw has nearly hit the floor. He stares at an enormous dildo and feels a sharp stab of jealousy. He's way bigger than that thing, anyway. Viktor doesn't know what he's missing.

Viktor's eyes catch his as he looks back up at him, and Yuuri feels his heart stop as his face grows even hotter. Viktor's gaze sweeps down his body.  
  
He does. He knows _exactly_ what he's missing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Sorry for the delay!!! _(:3」∠)_ 
> 
> But here's art!  
> https://twitter.com/yuuripaws/status/879079237482946560
> 
> Onward!

It doesn't take Viktor very long to decide that he's bored.

It hasn't even been a couple of hours since Yuuri had returned to his dorm to find Viktor comfortably nesting in his corner of the room. Yuuri had plopped into his chair soon after, determined to seem busy on his laptop to avoid furthering the awkward situation. He had to step over a few sex toys to do so. He tries his best not to look at them again. Especially not the dildo he had marked as his sworn enemy.

Viktor had alternated between napping and wandering around the room to poke at Yuuri's stuff. He had spent a little while standing in front of a bulletin board that Yuuri and Phichit had been adding to since their freshman year. It's full of polaroids of the two of them, lazing around or travelling, including photos of both of them visiting each other's native countries. There are photos of both of their families as well as photos of their friends, and plenty of notes and seemingly random things that reference inside jokes so convoluted that they honestly forgot what they were about. Which became an inside joke in and of itself.

Yuuri had watched Viktor as discretely as he could while he looked at the board. He couldn't see his face, but he had felt an odd emotion radiating from him in small waves. It seemed almost sad. 

The only emotion he displays now, however, is boredom, and he makes this known as he barges out of the bathroom.

Yuuri turns in his chair and immediately wishes that he hadn't.

Viktor is freshly showered, long hair wet and wild, and in nothing but a towel. It hangs low around his waist, nearly slipping. Yuuri tries not to scream.

"Yuuri," Viktor declares very seriously, "I'm bored."

Yuuri stares at him.

"I'm... sorry?"

Viktor gives him a fond sort of 'I forgive you because I love you' look, and Yuuri has no idea how to respond to that. Viktor seats himself in Phichit's chair next to him, leaning towards him suddenly, his eyes burning bright with a fierce determination. Yuuri is secretly thrilled. And also terrified. And definitely not trying to peek between his shamelessly spread legs.

"I'm bored," Viktor repeats, "so we should do something that isn't boring."

Yuuri senses the beginning of a very mentally exhausting conversation.

"Uh. Like what?"

They pause, both seeming to struggle for an actual solution.

"You could fuck me," Viktor suggests helpfully.

Yuuri nearly falls out of his chair as he chokes, and he shakes his head wildly.

_"Think of something else."_

"Okay," Viktor says cheerfully, eyes shining mischievously, "let's go somewhere!"

"No," Yuuri says weakly after clearing his throat, "you can't be seen. You'd attract too much attention."

Viktor doesn't back down one bit, rolling his chair closer to him now. Yuuri tries to look away, but Viktor's eyes are too intense. Too blue. Yuuri is lost in them.

"We don't have to go far. Just take me somewhere. Let's sit outside. I want to see the campus. Can we? Please?"

His face softens into something unfairly puppy-like, and Yuuri sighs heavily. He knows it isn't right to force Viktor to stay in here. Actually, Viktor can leave whenever he pleases. And he has already. But now he's asking Yuuri for permission. Specifically. Which makes Yuuri feel guilty. And like an asshole.

"Well," he says slowly, watching Viktor grow very excited, "I guess we can. Maybe."

He tries to think of somewhere they might be able to go without drawing too much attention to themselves. Somewhere indoors, preferably. Quiet. Someplace they wouldn't be disturbed. Somewhere a student might not generally go to during the weekend. 

He has an idea. 

When they leave the dorm, Yuuri glances up and down the hall nervously. No one in sight. He hopes it stays that way until they leave the building. Viktor bounds out of the room happily, clearly not giving a damn about whether or not he's seen. Yuuri eyes him anxiously as they make their way to the exit.

He had attempted to disguise Viktor. The keyword, of course, is 'attempted.'

Viktor has his long hair swept up into a tight bun, covered by a spare beanie Yuuri had lying around. Viktor had grabbed it immediately, because the pointed ends looked like cat ears. Yuuri had tried very hard not to melt.

He's wearing one of Yuuri's large college jackets, and when he had cheerfully asked if wearing each other's jackets is what boyfriends do, Yuuri had quickly changed the subject, digging through Phichit's things for more clothing. He had found his pair of hipster glasses, large and square-ish like Yuuri's own but fake and therefore automatically douche-y. Viktor manages to pull them off without looking like a complete tool, somehow.

Viktor looks very excited to be outside, basking in what little light the sun has to offer behind large and gloomy clouds. Yuuri watches him scent the brisk autumn air, and feels something warm in his chest. Because he's bundled up, of course. He eyes the plain shirt underneath Viktor's jacket.

"The cold doesn't bother you?"

Viktor grins at him slyly, and the warm feeling in his chest blazes hotter.

"Where I'm from, this is beach weather."

Where he's from. His home. The thought is almost too much to handle.

"Where's that?"

"St. Petersburg," he says, smiling fondly.

Yuuri falls silent for a bit. It still amazes him that Viktor has been so willing to share personal information so far. He's never considered that Viktor is an actual person with an actual background. That thought hits him hard, and he feels so guilty that he nearly feels ill. What the hell is wrong with him?

Thankfully, Viktor doesn't seem to notice, because he's too busy looking around curiously, muttering to himself whenever they pass by something interesting. His excitement must be overwhelming enough for him not to feel Yuuri's unease through their Bond. Yuuri watches him, his own curiosity growing. Viktor's wide-eyed wonder is a little too bizarre.

A sudden thought crosses his mind.

"Viktor, have you never been on a college campus before?"

Viktor shakes his head.

"No, I was home-schooled. For a while."

Yuuri falls silent again, his mind racing, but he doesn't have time to dwell on this new information, because they've arrived at the music wing already.

He feels a strong thrum of joy through their Bond when they enter, and Viktor is nearly vibrating as he looks around. He eyes the many instruments he sees longingly, and pauses every now and then to listen to students practicing in various rooms. Yuuri hurries him along before he's seen. Viktor doesn't seem to mind. The music seems to soothe him.

Yuuri is reminded of Minami's eagerness just a few days ago in this very hall. It makes his heart ache. He wants to feel the same. He wants that passion again. He looks at his hands. Will they play the way they had that day?

There's only one way to find out, and as they enter the practice room, he thinks he may know the answer. He feels something lurking within him start to awaken, and he wonders if it's Viktor's doing. It's a bittersweet thought, because Yuuri doesn't know if he'll ever be able to feel this way about his craft without Viktor's help.

Viktor immediately strides over to the keyboard Yuuri had been using that day he'd gone viral. Viktor seats himself, resting his hands on the keys gently and closing his eyes. Yuuri suddenly feels very self-conscious, almost embarrassed.

"It, um... doesn't exactly compare to your Steinway, but I still think it's pretty good?"

Viktor smiles softly, still running his fingers along the keys.

"Yes. It's perfect. I can feel your touch."

Yuuri blushes hotly. Can he? Really? There's a short pause, and then he sits beside him. He wonders if Viktor is going to play something, and watches him expectantly.

But Viktor hasn't made any move to. He's still touching each key almost reverently, seemingly experiencing something that Yuuri doesn't quite understand. Yuuri reaches out tentatively, laying his hands on the keys. Viktor still doesn't react.

Yuuri doesn't realize that he's started slowly playing the beginning of Viktor's piece until the man looks up at him sharply. Yuuri pauses, but Viktor gives him a look that tells him to keep playing.

It's unnerving as hell, performing someone else's piece live in front of them. Yuuri knows that he's fucked up a few parts already, and he has to stop, because his hands are starting to tremble.

He can't bring himself to look back at Viktor, even though he can sense him staring.

"Why'd you stop?" Viktor asks softly.

"I'm sorry," Yuuri says, his voice wavering slightly, "I just... I can't right now. It's too much. I'm sorry."

There's a small pause. Viktor nods, then moves to rise from his seat.

"That's alright, let's-"

"Wait," Yuuri says quickly, grabbing his sleeve, "what about you? Aren't you going to play?"

Viktor stares at the hand that's clutching him, seeming almost dazed at his touch. Yuuri withdraws nervously, and Viktor seems to snap out of it. He smiles at him a bit sadly.

"Not without you, Yuuri."

Yuuri still finds it hard to look at him as they go. Well, that had been pointless. Yuuri had expected something significant, something life changing. Playing alongside Viktor might reawaken his passion, maybe even help to fix their Bond. He had expected to be transported, to see life and color flashing behind closed eyes, to have Viktor beside him, the two of them lost together, the only two souls echoing in their own world as one.

But Yuuri had failed him. He tries to keep that sentiment to himself as they make their way back through the nearly empty campus, but he can see Viktor glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

"When I wrote that piece for you, I never would have expected that you'd play it. I didn't know you played at all."

"I started because of you," Yuuri blurts, looking away quickly. But not quick enough to miss the awe in Viktor's eyes.

"Really?" Viktor's voice is very soft now, and Yuuri feels the same warmth he'd felt earlier.

"Yeah, well, anyway," Yuuri says, frantically trying to change the subject, "that idea kind of bombed, so where do you want to go next?"

Viktor looks a little surprised, and then a lot excited. Yuuri supposes that he'd thought he was going to be marched back to the room to be locked away again. This newfound freedom seems to mean a lot to him. Yuuri still doesn't really understand. Viktor's been free all his life, so why does wandering around a college campus with Yuuri make him so cheerful?

"Can I buy you a coffee? That's what boyfriends do, right?"

Yuuri's face burns hotly, and he opens his mouth to protest, to tell him that he isn't his boyfriend, but he stops. Because he kind of is. The thought numbs his brain for a second, and he finds himself absently leading Viktor to the nearest coffee shop on campus, the word 'boyfriends' ringing in his ears over and over.

He's not entirely surprised to run into Guang-Hong there. He looks exhausted, but he smiles shyly when Yuuri greets him. He does a double-take when he sees Viktor. Yuuri tries not to panic when he sees his nose twitch.

"Oh! Um, hello! I'm Guang-Hong."

"Hi," Viktor says, beaming at him, "I'm --"

"Pochi," Yuuri blurts. Viktor shoots him a startled look, but Yuuri ignores him. "He's, uh, visiting. The school. Here."

Guang-Hong nods slowly, too tired to really question anything. Viktor has gone back to beaming. Yuuri fidgets.

"Well. I need to get back to Leo, he won't wake up and we need to study. Exams, you know? It was nice meeting you, Pochi!"

Viktor waves at him cheerfully, smiling at Yuuri sweetly as soon as he's out of sight.

"Pochi?"

"Um. Completely random. I had to think of something quick." Yuuri blushes hard, not able to make eye contact. He doesn't want to tell Viktor that his new alias is a common name for a dog in Japan. He has a feeling that Viktor would enjoy that fact a little _too_ much.

He makes sure to watch Viktor closely as he goes to wait in line in the crowded little shop. The campus may be nearly deserted on a weekend, but Yuuri doesn't think he's ever seen any of the coffee places empty. Not when there are sleep-deprived students stumbling around like zombies. He casts nervous but hopefully subtle glances around the shop. Viktor's scentless, and no one seems to pick him out from the crowd. Yuuri himself gets of a bit of attention, as usual, but he refuses to meet anyone's gaze.

But when Viktor returns to him with a hyper-sweetened and unpronounceable abomination to share, he thinks he can feel people staring as Viktor presses it into his hands after taking a long sip. Yes, people have definitely noticed. Yuuri Katsuki is sharing a drink with a tall and handsome stranger who is standing just a little too close to him. Yuuri leaves in a hurry, Viktor trailing behind him, clueless.

Yuuri still feels on edge as they continue to wander aimlessly throughout campus, nearly jumping any time he sees someone pass by too closely. He jerks when someone touches him, but it's only Viktor tugging at his sleeve.

"Yuuri, can we go sit somewhere? Can we sit under a tree? I've never done that with someone before. It's romantic, right?"

Yuuri doesn't know what the hell is and isn't romantic, but he gives in anyway. He's never done this, either. Not with a _boyfriend_ , anyway. The word makes him shiver, and Viktor mistakes it as a sign that he's cold. He scoots closer to him as they settle onto the grass, and Yuuri tries not to scream when he rests his head against his. But Viktor seems to sense Yuuri's discomfort, and he pulls away. Yuuri can feel hurt and confusion pass along their Bond.

"I'm sorry. I didn't... I just thought that this is something boyfr-"

"You don't have to keep doing that," Yuuri says suddenly. He realizes now what has been bothering him. "You don't have to keep asking me what boyfriends do. Because I have no idea. Just... do whatever feels natural. I think? Um, if you want." He's rapidly losing steam, sounding more uncertain with every word, but Viktor hangs onto every syllable intently.

There's a small silence.

"I feel natural when I'm close to you," Viktor says. "Is that okay? Can I sit close to you?"

Yuuri nods slowly, his face growing hot as Viktor curls up against him again. They both sigh at nearly the same time.

"This is kind of awkward, isn't it?" Viktor sighs again, and Yuuri feels a small smile forming on his lips almost against his will.

"Well, I wasn't going to say it, but..."

Viktor makes a sound that Yuuri hopes is a laugh. It may have been another sigh.

"I'm not very good at this. I've never been with anyone before."

Yuuri gives him a sidelong look. Viktor? Single? The man may be elusive, but Yuuri finds it hard to believe that he's never dated anyone before. Then again, Viktor seems like the player type. Yuuri thinks of all the Alphas he's ever teased mercilessly, and feels a douchebag-level of smugness.

"Well, I've never really dated either. I haven't been with an Omega at all." He says this without thinking, blushing hotly when Viktor looks at him in surprise.

"Really? Why?"

"I don't know. It never felt right. And then," Yuuri falters, then decides that he's in deep enough shit to just roll with honesty, "I found out about you. And I didn't want anyone else."

He thinks he can see the color rise in Viktor's cheeks, but his eyes are so sly and teasing that Yuuri has to look away. This man's mere existence is just fucking _unfair._

"If it makes you feel better, I've never been with an Alpha."

This time, Yuuri _has_ to look back at him. This is just too much. Never? Not even once? Then again, he can see Viktor as the picky type. High standards. He feels that same smugness again, and feels like an ass immediately afterwards.

"Well, I'm glad we have that in common, then. It's... weird. I don't know what to expect. I mean, uh," Yuuri blushes harder now, trying to keep his voice from trembling, "being with Betas doesn't really prepare you for... uh, mating?"

"Oh, I wouldn't know about that either!"

Yuuri opens his mouth to respond, then pauses. He stares at Viktor.

"Are you saying you've never been with a Beta?"

"Yes."

"And you've never been with an Alpha."

"That's right."

"Uh. Have you... been with another Omega?" It isn't that uncommon for this to happen, but Viktor shakes his head.

"So," Yuuri says very slowly, "have you been with anyone at all?"

"No!" Viktor says very cheerfully. "I'm a virgin!"

Yuuri nearly blacks out.

Viktor Nikiforov, the world's most desired Omega, is a virgin. He's a virgin, and he wants to be crucified on Yuuri's dick. This is _too much._ Yuuri needs a very long and very cold shower.

He scrambles to his feet, making some excuse about it getting dark out, and Viktor reluctantly follows him back to the dorm room. Yuuri hopes that he's enjoyed his time outside. He feels as if he's just walked an excitable puppy, and tries not to imagine Viktor being led on a leash. He does a shitty job of this. He really needs that shower.

Phichit is back in their room, passed out on their bed and snoring. Yuuri wants to join him, but the shower is still calling his name. Viktor gives him a sort of longing look, like he wants to be invited into the shower as well, but Yuuri turns away hastily, hoping that his face isn't too red as he shuts the door behind him.

He can't stop thinking about Viktor, about being his first, about pinning him, taking him, making him his, and no one else's. Yuuri's mark would be the only Viktor has ever received. And the only one he _will_ receive. The thought makes Yuuri shiver hard, although it could be the icy water drilling against his heated skin.

No, he can't stop thinking about Viktor. His mind is filled with stupid and cliche fantasies of him, blushing hard and whimpering, coy and nervous, shyly asking him to please be gentle. A request that he quickly takes back, because not long after Yuuri mounts and takes him, he begs now, begging to be fucked faster, harder, deeper, screaming because it hurts, but it hurts _so good,_ and begging, pleading, sobbing, desperate for more. His long hair would feel so nice clenched in Yuuri's fist. His neck would be so tender and soft, so easy to bruise.

Yuuri's so hard that it's painful, and no amount of freezing water can change that. He has to bite back a loud moan as he touches himself, because Viktor is close, so close that he can nearly taste him from the other room. He almost wishes he were here now, and for a moment he imagines that it's Viktor's hand that's jerking his cock, and for a moment, he feels him, he feels someone else wrap tightly around him, and he bucks his hips hard and gasps, because he swears that it's Viktor, and he can taste him in his mouth. He wants him. He wants him to be here. _Now._

And because Yuuri's life has spiraled downwards into a comedy of errors, the door opens, and Viktor pokes his head in.

The both of them freeze. Yuuri's hand seems to be glued to his cock, because he stands there in the shower, squeezing it, gaping at Viktor, who's staring back, eyes wide. Those eyes trail down, and the sight of Viktor's lips parting, his tongue slipping out to lick them, is almost enough for Yuuri to come right then and there. He can feel himself trickle, and the look on Viktor's face says that he would like to drop to his knees to catch it in his mouth.

"What are you doing here?" Yuuri asks, voice cracking.

"You called me," Viktor says slowly, seeming dazed. He can't seem to tear his gaze away from Yuuri's cock. There's a hunger in his darkening eyes, and Yuuri can smell him growing wet. Yuuri scents the air, starting to drool, and Viktor snaps out of it, his scent retreating. And then it's gone. Yuuri nearly groans in protest.

"I didn't call you," Yuuri says, pulling out of his own hazy thoughts and yanking at the curtains to hide his body. Viktor's eyes finally meet his.

"I heard you. Through our Bond. You wanted me to come." He blushes hard, but there's a small smirk forming on his lips, and he licks them again. Yuuri almost has to grip the wall for dear life.

"Well, I didn't mean to, so. Uh. Look, if something like this happens through our Bond, still... just knock? I guess? Like, let me know?" He's babbling now, unable to meet his gaze anymore. Viktor seems to enjoy this very much.

"Sure!" Viktor says cheerfully, ducking back out. Yuuri almost wants to call for him again as the door shuts. Yuuri's shower is colder this time, and he keeps his hands firmly behind his back.

When he finally steps back into the room, he's relieved to see that Viktor has followed Phichit's lead. He's knocked out in his bed, settled snugly into his nest, face buried in Yuuri's pillow. He seems to be covered in a pile of Yuuri's shirts. He looks so precious that Yuuri feels himself blush, remembering what Viktor had said about Yuuri's scent making him feel better. Yuuri feels a familiar warmth in his chest as he watches him.

Despite the coffee earlier, Yuuri suddenly feels exhausted. His sleep schedule has been absolutely fucked for the past week. A nap wouldn't hurt. He falls into bed beside Phichit, who stirs sleepily as he takes Yuuri into his arms. His body heat soaks straight through to his chilled skin, and Yuuri drifts off instantly.

She's beautiful. But he can't see her face.

She's looking down at him, but Yuuri can't see her face. Her gray hair is long and so soft, flowing down her shoulder in an elegant braid. But still, Yuuri can't see her face.

But he knows that she's trying to say something. He knows that her lips are moving. But he can't see her face.

Yuuri wakes up and isn't entirely surprised to find that Viktor is gone.

It's already dark out. Yuuri grabs up his phone and sees that he's been sleeping for a few hours. He also sees that he has no messages. Nothing telling him not to worry. Nothing assuring him of a safe return.

Where is Viktor?

The question pulls him out of his groggy daze, his mind starting to race. Why is he gone? Where has he gone? Yuuri stumbles out of bed, struggling into his clothes and heading out the door. But where? He has no idea. But he has to go _somewhere._

He rounds the corner and stops, because he sees Yuri in the middle of opening the door to his room, grocery bag in hand, and he pauses to stare back.

"There you are, asshole," he says by way of greeting. "Where are you going now?"

Yuuri doesn't really have an answer, so he shrugs, his thoughts focused on Viktor and trying to fight down his fraying nerves. Yuri sort of shrugs back, scowling at him and turning away.

"Well, I have to go. I felt that Beka's sick, and I-"

"You felt?" Yuuri says in surprise. Yuri narrows his eyes at him.

"Yeah? I went to get him medicine, because I knew he was sick. Obviously."

No, Yuuri thinks, there isn't anything obvious about whatever the hell he's saying. But he mentally kicks himself immediately after. Yes, of course it's obvious, and he's a dumbass for not making the connection.

"Did you feel that through your Bond?"

Yuri blushes, and his scowl softens slightly, almost becoming a pout.

"Yeah. Why do you care?"

Yuuri feels very awkward suddenly. He realizes that he's never really spoken to another Alpha about their Bond with their Omega. Not in-depth, anyways. He'd never felt comfortable enough to ask questions, his envy preventing him from wanting to hear more.

"So. Uh. How does that work? I-I mean," he starts to stutter under Yuri's glare, "is it hard? Feeling someone else's thoughts? Knowing their mind?"

Yuri softens even more, his eyes darting away almost shyly. He keeps trying to scowl, but it's not quite there.

"It was weird at first. We didn't really know what we were doing. But nobody does. It gets easier, though. Once you understand their soul, you feel like you've known it all along." His face screws up suddenly, as if grossed out by his own sappiness. Yuuri fights down a laugh, but it dies when Yuri suddenly looks at him sharply.

"Why? You trying to Bond with someone?"

"No," Yuuri says quickly, and when he sees Yuri's nostrils flare and his eyes widen, he excuses himself quickly, nearly sprinting the rest of the way down the hall.

He really wishes he had thrown on a thicker sweater, because he can feel the wind cutting him to the bone. He still has no idea why he's out here. Or where he's going. But his feet take him in a direction that he chooses not to fight, because he has the strangest feeling that he's going the right way.

He hears something. Or maybe he feels it. It's quiet, but he can hear it. Feel it. It doesn't call to him, but he follows it anyway, because it's alone. It's alone and it needs him.

When he reaches the tree, Viktor looks up as though he's been expecting him.

He doesn't speak, even when Yuuri sits beside him. He's looking up at the night sky, at what little stars can be seen beyond the hazy city lights. The moon is bright, and Viktor's hair nearly glows beneath it. He's in the middle of braiding it absently. Yuuri scoots a little closer to him, and when their shoulders touch, Viktor shudders.

"I woke up and I couldn't go back to sleep," he finally says. Yuuri is silent, watching him.

"I wanted to go outside," Viktor continues. "I like being outside. I'm sorry."

Yuuri's heart shatters. He feels like a monster.

"Please don't say that. I'm the one who should be apologizing. It's not fair for me to keep you locked up. You're not a pet." He blushes at that last bit, especially since it seems to get a reaction out of Viktor.

"But I can be. I'll be your pet, Yuuri, and I'll do whatever you want, always, like a good Omega. But I really wanted to be outside tonight."

Yuuri's hand reaches for his without either of them realizing at first. Viktor's hand is warm, and he feels his own start to tingle as he places it on top. Yuuri suddenly realizes that he's blinking back tears.

"You can do whatever _you_ want, Viktor. We're supposed to be equals. Isn't that how it works?"

There's a small silence.

"I don't know," Viktor says softly. "But if I can do whatever I want, can I do this?"

He intertwines their fingers slowly, cautiously, and Yuuri lets him. He hopes that's enough of an answer to his question. When Viktor starts to purr softly, Yuuri knows he understands.

"Well. Um." Yuuri looks at him nervously now, feeling awkward. "Text me if you do go somewhere? Just so I know that you're safe. And tell me when you want to be alone. Okay?"

He hopes that he doesn't sound like an annoying and overbearing boyfriend. But when Viktor turns to him, his smile is slow and warm, and Yuuri doesn't feel the wind's bite anymore.

"Okay."


	7. Chapter 7

Yuuri's instructor stops him before he gets ready to leave after their private session in the music wing. He tries not to squirm under her gaze, but he isn't doing a very good job.

"Is everything alright?"

What a question.

Yuuri sort of shrugs and nods at the same time before realizing that neither are exactly answers. She continues to stare at him.

"You're having problems performing. You're always welcome to arrange extra practice, Yuuri, you know that. Just ask!"

She smiles fondly at him, and Yuuri relaxes a little, smiling back sort of sheepishly. Despite her sudden moments of strictness, Professor Okukawa's a very patient and cheerful person. And as an old friend of Yuuri's parents, she has a soft spot for him. It had done wonders for Yuuri's anxiety to have a familiar adult figure in his life during his stay abroad, especially one he could easily lapse back into his native tongue with. They kept things fairly formal in public, but when alone, she had insisted that he drop all titles and honorifics and simply call her 'Minako.'

"I'm sorry, Minako. I guess I feel like I'm, uh," he pauses, not exactly sure how to explain what the hell has been going on in his life, and not sure if he _wants_ to. "Distracted?" he decides, sounding very unconvincing.

"Distracted," she repeats, raising an eyebrow before shrugging. "Well, when you're ready to play the way you did in that video, let me know! I'm dying to see it," she adds with a wink, beaming at him. "Should I call in that gorgeous Ghost for a little inspiration?"

"No, I think I'm good, thank you," Yuuri says quickly, inclining his head respectfully towards her before getting the hell out as fast as possible. He slows as he makes his way down the hall, frowning at himself. Minako's right. He's having issues playing. Why?

He doesn't have much time to figure that out, because he hears someone approaching. Fast. His head whips around just in time for him to sidestep Minami.

"Sorry! I didn't, um, mean to run into you like that!" Minami's turning as red as the streak in his hair, and he fidgets awkwardly now, looking back and forth between Yuuri and some distant void. Yuuri tries very hard to be patient. What is Minami even doing near the Advanced rooms? Does he even have classes today?

"I came to apologize," Minami says, answering his unasked question. Yuuri blinks at him.

"Well. Uh. You kind of already did?"

"No, not just now, I mean. You know." He fidgets even more awkwardly, and Yuuri fights back the urge to do the same. "The whole... putting you online... thing. You know?"

"Yeah," Yuuri says dully, "I know."

There's an uncomfortable pause as Minami looks like he might explode while he waits for further response. Yuuri considers this. Minami may have sort of embarrassed him, but it hadn't been that big of a deal, had it? And it had brought Viktor to him. He feels his face grow warm at this, and he clears his mind and his throat.

"It's alright," he says, and Minami looks so relieved that he almost stumbles into him again as they both make their way out of the main doors.

"Thank you! I mean, thanks for understanding? I only wanted the world to see how talented and great you are!"

"That's sweet," Yuuri says with a small smile. It is, really. At least someone has faith in him. There's that spark that I'm missing, he thinks a bit sadly.

As they step outside, Yuuri turns to say goodbye, but Minami has stopped and is staring at him, his face slowly reddening, his nose twitching slightly. Yuuri braces himself for whatever the hell is about to happen.

"If you ever wanna... p-practice together, or, um, I-I mean, I never gave you my number, so --"

"Yuuri!"

Yuuri freezes, eyes widening as he turns to see Viktor step towards him. He looks like he'd been leaning against the wall just outside the music wing doors, waiting for him. He's wearing Phichit's fake glasses again, but this time he seems to have dug up one of his douchebag snapbacks that, to Yuuri's dismay, still looks very cute on him.

If Viktor's disguise had been somewhat convincing on an empty weekend campus, it definitely isn't cutting it now. Or maybe it's just Yuuri's imagination. He thinks he can see a few people glancing their way as they pass by. Do they recognize Viktor?

The look on Minami's face seems answer enough. He looks like he might have died standing, and Viktor is what killed him. His face pales, then reddens as he watches Viktor grab Yuuri's arm and pull him closer. Yuuri tries to pretend he hasn't noticed.

"Uh. Hey, Pochi." Minami makes a strangled sound beside him. Yuuri tries to pretend he hasn't heard.

"Yuuri, are you free yet? I'm hungry, we should get lunch together!"

"I, uh, sure?" This is all Yuuri can get out before Viktor suddenly draws a lot closer, frowning at him slightly. He digs for something in his pocket, and before Yuuri can even register the small tub of lip balm, Viktor's finger is pressed against his lips, smoothing something thick and slick across them. The taste of Viktor's skin is almost paralyzing.

"You don't want chapped lips, right?"

"Right," Yuuri says faintly, helpless as Viktor tugs him along. He glances back to wave goodbye to Minami, but the boy seems to have gone into an upright coma.

He tries not to freak out as Viktor cheerfully drags him throughout the campus to find food. He's rambling on about something around a mouthful of sandwich now, but Yuuri's eyes are everywhere -- is that Alpha over there looking at them? Why is that group of Omegas whispering? And what the fuck is _that_ guy staring at?

But it's hard to think straight, because Viktor's arm is linked with his, and whenever Yuuri licks his lips, he tastes camomile and honey and Viktor. He shudders hard, and Viktor pulls him closer.

"Yuuri, are you okay?"

Yuuri tears his eyes away from an Alpha whose gaze had lingered a little too long on them, but not until they had looked away first. Deep breaths, he tells himself.

"Yeah, it's just. Um. Very crowded today. Here. On campus. Uh. Right now." Viktor must be able to feel him shaking, because he speaks to him soothingly as he leads them towards what Yuuri guesses is now Their Tree. It's a good tree. Not exactly excluded, but far from the center of attention.

"No one's bothered me," Viktor tells him as he graciously helps him settle down onto the grass. "I don't doubt that people recognize me, but no one has said anything."

Yuuri frowns. Why? Viktor isn't exactly movie-star levels of famous, but he's enough of a sensation for a campus full of young adults to notice who he is. Even without his scent. Yuuri looks him up and down now, trying and failing to be discreet about it. Viktor's scent? Is he still desirable while scentless?

Viktor notices his gaze, and tilts his head, smiling sweetly and presenting his neck ever so slightly. Yuuri reddens and looks away. Is he desirable? Obviously. But not enough to cause a scene, apparently. If Viktor can just resist temptation and keep his scent to himself, there'd be nothing to worry about.

It's a very calming revelation, and he leans back now, sighing deeply. Viktor's nothing more than a spectacle now, a minor celebrity gracing a college campus. Any Alpha sniffing their way is just jealous. That makes him feel a little smug. He makes eye contact with another Alpha passing by too closely, and when they look away, Yuuri feels a _lot_ smug. Don't, he tells himself firmly. Don't be That Guy.

He glances at Viktor again, and is surprised to see him looking into the distance very intently. Looking at someone. Yuuri's eyes follow.

It's Christophe, and he's headed in their direction, breaking off from a group of Yuuri's other friends. Yuri is among them, and he glares daggers at him. Probably for not meeting him for lunch. He's probably glaring at Viktor too now for stealing him away.

Christophe's grin is the most mischievous Yuuri has ever seen it as he plops down in front of them.

"Well," he drawls, looking back and forth between them, "who have we got here?"

"It's nice to see you too, Chris," Yuuri says with a weary sigh. He's not ready to experience a conversation between these two. He glances at Viktor again only to see him just now tear his eyes from the distant group to look at Chris. His face, which had been so blank just now, lights up almost alarmingly fast.

"Hi! I'm Pochi!"

"You're The Ghost," Chris says, not skipping a beat.

"I am," Viktor admits, still beaming.

Yuuri groans loudly. All his hard work is going to _shit._

"Please try not to say that so loudly?" He fights down the urge to look around wildly and pull at his hair.

"You guys aren't exactly low-profile over here, you know." Chris suddenly looks Viktor up and down, smirking. "And hello, gorgeous."

He reaches for Viktor's hand, and Viktor allows him to bring it to his lips. Chris looks up at him through thick and dark lashes, his voice a low purr.

_"Enchanté."_

Viktor turns a lovely shade of pink, gasping softly and looking away coyly. Yuuri can see his legs spreading and his head tilting, and he panics.

"Chris, what the hell are you _doing?_ " he hisses, and Viktor seems to snap out of it. Though, the look on his face makes Yuuri wonder if it had been faked. Of course it had, he thinks, feeling stupid as Viktor and Chris exchange very amused glances. Viktor hasn't spent years dodging Alphas just to roll over for some stranger now. Chris looks almost apologetic. Almost.

"Just screwing with you. Unless, of course, you --"

"No," Yuuri says quickly, his face burning as he gets to his feet. Viktor follows immediately, but Yuuri shakes his head.

"I'm going to my next class. But you can go wherever you want, okay?"

Viktor looks amazed at this, and Yuuri's face softens at the sight. Viktor looks so happy. Does he always look this happy around him? Yuuri's cheeks are still burning, and Viktor's soft smile isn't helping.

"Well," Chris says, standing and brushing grass off his jeans, "it was nice to meet you, _Pochi._ If you ever need me, my room is --"

" _Goodbye_ , Chris."

Yuuri watches him return to the group, and he lifts a hand to wave at them before realizing that Yuri isn't there anymore. Which means his next class must have started. Which means Yuuri needs to hurry. He hefts up his bag and turns to Viktor to find him staring at him strangely. There's a small and sort of awkward silence.

"Can I --" Viktor starts, moving forward, but then he stops himself, turning to leave with a little wave. "Never mind. See you soon?"

"Um, yeah. See you soon."

Yuuri thinks about this all the way to his class. What had Viktor almost said? Asked? He had looked almost scared. Shy? Yuuri shakes his head lightly. No, there's no point in dwelling on it. Not right now, anyway.

He's barely in his seat before Yuri spins around to scowl at him.

"Who was that?"

"Who?" Yuuri repeats without thinking, although he knows exactly what he's talking about.

"Don't be a dumbass. That Omega. He yours? Is that who you were trying to Bond with?"

"I, uh..." Yuuri's trying to stall while he searches for an actual answer. His quest isn't exactly successful.

"I'm taking that as a 'yes,'" Yuri informs him. Yuuri is almost grateful. That's less work for him to do.

"Well, he's not --" Yuuri pauses and chews his lip a bit nervously. No, he's got to face the facts. No more denial. "I mean, yes, he's mine."

Yuri stares at him for what seems like an eternity, his eyes narrowing to slits. His nostrils flare, and Yuuri prays that he doesn't somehow smell Viktor. But wait, why does it matter? Viktor isn't really much of a secret anymore, is he? Does it matter if anyone on campus finds out?

But Yuri just turns back around. He doesn't speak to him for the rest of the class.

Yuuri's sort of surprised to find Viktor back in his room when he returns. He'd expected him to have disappeared somewhere, but he can hear him before he even opens his door. He freezes with his hand on the doorknob. Who is Viktor talking to?

He opens the door as quietly as he can, and sees Viktor pacing back and forth by his bed. He doesn't seem to notice Yuuri, because his eyes are glued to his phone. He's speaking rapid-fire Russian, and Yuuri feels his heart start to pound faster. He had tried to learn the language, hoping to impress Viktor if they ever met. He can catch a few words, but Viktor is going way too fast.

He slows now, beaming excitedly at his phone. A video call? With who? Viktor switches to English now, and Yuuri listens closely, tiptoeing in and shutting the door carefully.

"Hello, angel! Have you been good? Yes? Daddy misses you, darling! I'll see you soon, okay?"

Yuuri freezes, eyes widening. _Daddy?_ Who the fuck is calling Viktor _Daddy?_

Viktor's back to Russian now, and he seems to be concluding his conversation, speaking in short and clipped words that make it seem as though he's trying to say goodbye but the other person won't stop talking. He says something teasingly, and whoever he's speaking to explodes in a flurry of words that Yuuri had definitely tried to learn first. He hears the word for 'bastard' used quite often. Viktor hangs up on them mid-scream, smiling fondly at his screen for a bit before finally noticing Yuuri.

"Oh! Welcome back, Yuuri."

Something about this phrase reminds Yuuri of a maid welcoming home a Master, but he shoves that thought somewhere it can never see the light of day. Ever.

He isn't sure if he wants to ask about the phone call, but Viktor cheerfully answers anyway.

"That was Yakov! You'll meet him someday, don't worry." Yuuri isn't worried, but he supposes he appreciates the reassurance anyway. He still has no idea who exactly Yakov is, and if that was who Viktor was speaking to, Yuuri suddenly feels a little resentful towards him.

"So what, are you his Sugar Daddy or something?"

Viktor gapes at him, absolutely bewildered. But the look is replaced by realization, then near-hysterics.

"Oh, you heard that? No, I was talking to _Makkachin,_ Yuuri, oh my _God!_ "

Yuuri doesn't know who or what a Makkachin is, so he gives up, dropping his things and flopping onto his bed. Viktor is still trying to speak between muffled fits of laughter.

"You'll meet Makkachin, too! I promise! She's my best girl, and Yakov will bring her when he visits."

Too much information all at once. Yuuri lurches back up to stare at him.

"Who? What? Yakov is coming _here?_ Why?When?"

"In a few days, maybe. He'll be coming from my apartment in New York."

Yuuri blinks at him. Viktor? Owning property? To live in?

"Penthouse, really," Viktor corrects himself thoughtfully. He continues to pace, typing away furiously at his phone, then stops suddenly. He grabs up his --  _Yuuri's_ jacket and heads for the door, flashing him a smile as he goes.

"I'll be back, Yuuri! Don't miss me too much!"

Yuuri doesn't have the energy to question this. He lays back down, staring at the ceiling. So, this mysterious Yakov will show up someday. Very soon. This man is close to Viktor, and probably knows everything about him. Yuuri suddenly realizes that he has a lot more questions to ask than he had thought. But where would he even begin? And what kind of person is Yakov, anyway? To have kept someone as reckless as Viktor safe for so long, this man must be a legend. Or a hitman. Maybe a mob boss. Somehow, Yuuri wouldn't be surprised.

He frowns up at the ceiling. Yakov isn't here. Is Viktor safe now? He seems to be, but Yuuri isn't entirely convinced. Viktor had claimed that no one had bothered him so far. Yuuri wonders how long that'll last. Even if he isn't famous, he's still a very powerfully alluring Omega.

But he's free. Yuuri can't cage a free spirit, nor does he want to.

He can't stop thinking of Viktor's face in the moonlight. He'd seemed so lost, so helpless, sitting under their tree. Waiting. Would he always be waiting for him? Will Yuuri always find him there, curled up beneath the shadows cast by falling leaves, beneath the light of the moon? Shimmering light, bright and dancing in his silver hair. Hair like the moon, like a glittering comet, a halo floating above the head of an angel. Lashes of the same stardust, fluttering as their orbit shifts, and eyes like ice, pulling him in. Always pulling him in.

Something had been different. Viktor had been different that night. Or maybe, Yuuri thinks, frowning again, _he's_ the one who's different now? But what does that mean? He thinks of Viktor's smile. So warm and genuine. There had been something in it. Something different. Yuuri thinks he can feel Viktor's fingers intertwined with his again. He flexes his hand, and the feeling dissipates.

Yuuri feels a strange aching in his chest, and realizes that he misses him. Where has he gone? Why is he gone?

He nearly has a heart attack when the door bursts open, but it's only Phichit.

Phichit cheerfully dumps everything he's holding onto the floor, and when he turns to Yuuri, his eyebrows rise.

"You okay there?"

Yuuri nods absently, already withdrawing back into his thoughts as Phichit makes his way towards the bathroom. This earns him another glance.

"And where's your Dearly Beloved?"

"He went out," Yuuri says with a sigh. He can feel himself slipping away into something hazy and distant, so he struggles to his feet. No, he can't let this sudden and weird emptiness at Viktor's absence throw him off. There's no point in moping around.

He's free for the rest of the day, so he should find something to do. When he sits down heavily in his chair and opens his laptop, something to do soon comes in the form of a video call. Yuuri grins when he sees who it is.

His grin widens when he sees who she's with.

"Yuuri!" A chorus that nearly knocks him out of his chair. It's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard, and it's been too long since he's heard it at all.

Yuuko adjusts her laptop to make sure he can see his entire family as they crowd closer. Knowing his schedule, they must have woken up extra early to talk to him. His mother and father wave, and his sister, Mari, comes forward to take a good look at him, grinning lazily.

"Hope you're taking good care of yourself, kid! What's it like this year?"

"The term has been great so far. I've been making good progress." This is sort of a lie, but he can't bring himself to tell them how hard he's been struggling. They can't ever find out. 

Yuuko scoots forward excitedly, and now Yuuri sees her husband, Takeshi, in the background with their triplets. They've grown up so fast, he thinks, amazed. Has it really been so long since he's seen them?

"Yeah, we saw that video! Yuuri, you're really amazing, I can't believe how far you've come. We're all really proud!" The rest shout their agreement, and for a moment, Yuuri's overwhelmed.

He's always been terrified of being a disappointment. He's never said it to anyone and he never will, but he's so incredibly grateful that Mari had been born first. His parents had been spared the fear that their only child might be an Alpha or an Omega. Unable to carry the family forward. But Mari's a Beta, and a perfect daughter. Despite her own successes in her field of education, she had decided to stay home after graduating, to stay and help their parents at their hot springs resort.

Yuuri had run away. Would he ever go back?

Not if I end up a failure, he thinks, trying to hide his fear behind a smile. He hopes they won't notice, but luckily for him, Phichit returns.

"Hey!" he greets them, sitting in his chair and rolling over to Yuuri's desk. "I thought Yuuri was talking to himself! How are you all?"

Yuuri makes room for him, grinning at his family's reaction. They _love_ Phichit. His Japanese isn't perfect, but he had managed to charm nearly all of Yuuri's hometown, it seems. Yuuri can't blame them. That's just how Phichit is.

His family often asks to see his other friends, and Yuuri suspects that they aren't sure he has any. He's not sure how to tell them that people don't tend to awkwardly video chat with their friends' entire families overseas. The one time Yuri had been over to visit during a call, Mari had absolutely gushed over him, affectionately referring to him as a skittish kitten. Probably because he had run away.

Phichit turns back to him, smiling, and Yuuri snaps out of his daydreaming. His family is now giving him the sort of look he had been expecting.

"The rest of my friends are all busy," he says quickly, trying to wrap things up before the interrogation begins. "You'll meet them someday, I promise!"

Yuuri almost isn't surprised to hear the door open behind him.

"Who's that?" Yuuko asks, squinting to get a better look. Yuuri doesn't even turn to look. He's tempted to tell her that it's no one. Just a ghost. He'll disappear if anyone blinks.

But he feels Viktor's weight behind him now as he leans against his chair. Strands of his hair brush against Yuuri's skin, nearly electrifying, and he tries not to shiver. Viktor's way too close, and Yuuri hopes that his family can't see him becoming flustered. They're whispering in anticipated excitement, and he wonders if he should even bother bracing himself. This is a shitstorm waiting to happen. 

Viktor opens his mouth to introduce himself, and Yuuri quickly cuts him off, suddenly remembering his unfortunate alias. He does _not_ need his family knowing about _that._

"This is Viktor. He's, uh, staying here. Kind of."

His family crowds closer, amazed. Yuuko pulls back, gasping, realization dawning on her face. Yuuri sighs.

"It's you! I mean," she looks back at Yuuri, "isn't he? You know?"

"Yes, it's me, Viktor Nikiforov. It's nice to meet you!" Viktor says very cheerfully. In Japanese. Yuuri nearly falls out of his chair. _What?_

His family nearly has the same reaction, and they rush forward now, clamoring for his attention with what seems like a thousand questions. Yuuri starts to slowly cover his face with his hands.

"Are you the one Yuuri always talks about?"

"How did you do that one stunt where you --"

"When did Yuuri --"

"Yuuri," one of the triplets suddenly asks, very loudly, "is he your _boyfriend?_ "

There's a deadly silence, and Yuuri has less than a second to respond before the oncoming barrage. But Viktor beats him to it.

In fact, he more than beats him to it. With a grand flourish, he pulls out a small velvet box from the pocket of his jacket. He pauses for dramatic effect before opening it, beaming wildly.

"Actually," Viktor declares, "I'm his soulmate!"

A pair of gleaming gold rings sits on a soft cushion within the box. They seem twice as blinding in the white glare of the screen.

Yuuri's laptop _explodes._

_"Soulmate?"_

"Oh, Yuuri, you've found love so young! Your father and I are so proud!"

"When are you bringing him here, Yuuri? We have to meet him! _Now!_ "

"Is this that 'Bonding' thing?"

"You _have_ to get married here! I'll never forgive you if you don't!"

Phichit is shaking with laughter beside him, muffling his mouth with his hands and nearly choking. Viktor looks _very_ pleased with himself. Yuuri wants to die.

"Sorry, I have to study now, I love you all! Bye!"

He ends the call, wishing he could end his life just as easily. Phichit takes the lengthening silence as a cue to get the hell out, and he does so with a wink and without a word. Yuuri spares a brief moment to appreciate his existence despite also wanting to strangle him, because he can hear him whooping with laughter in the hallway.

Viktor happily takes the now empty chair, spinning in it slightly and smiling very contentedly. He's still holding the box. The rings.

"What," Yuuri says very slowly, trying not to lose what's left of his mind, "is _that?_ "

"These are rings, Yuuri," Viktor says, rolling closer to show him. Yes. They definitely are rings. So bright. Yuuri is nearly blinded. Or maybe it's his vision whiting out. Everything is so hazy now.

"Why did you buy them?" Yuuri asks, not entirely sure he wants to hear the answer. Viktor's smile makes him very sure of that.

"Well, they were supposed to be for your birthday, but then I got too impatient! And I didn't like the pair I had Yakov buy, so I went and got my own. I think your family approves of them. Right?"

Yuuri resists laying his head down on his desk and screaming. It's very, very, very difficult. Yes, his family approves. Enthusiastically. He groans, imagining the phone calls frantically being made and the wedding invitations probably being planned and ordered. He pauses, because something Viktor had just said catches up to him.

"My birthday?"

"Yes," Viktor says earnestly, "Phichit told me that it's this weekend. Turning twenty-two, right?"

"Right," Yuuri says absently. "And you... got me a gift?"

"Of course I did!"

Viktor's smile is as dazzling as the rings he's holding. Yuuri is speechless, disbelieving. Viktor had gotten him a birthday gift. Viktor had bought something nice for him, as a present. He feels himself blush hard, and the fluttery feeling he gets in his stomach when he looks at the rings must be a sign that he's getting sick. He thinks he may need to pass out.

"Why rings?"

"That's usually a sign of a Bond, right? Something matching?" He pauses, doubt starting to grow across his face. "Is that okay?"

Is it okay? Yuuri doesn't know.

"I think it's a little too soon for that," he blurts, and tries not to wince at the pain Viktor feels. "I-I mean, Bond tokens are just a bit too much right now, yeah? We should wait. Um, maybe until this is..."

"Fixed?" Viktor suggests. His easy smile isn't quite convincing. 

Yuuri feels like a massive asshole for turning down a birthday present. But rings? For a Bonded pair, sure, a sign of their connection. And it's not even necessary for many. It's just something simple. Sentimental. Cute. Rings had been the last thing on Yuuri's mind in his fantasies of Bonding with Viktor. He'd been picturing... other things. Many other things.

This is too real, he thinks suddenly, watching Viktor close the box and withdraw. They have no idea what they're doing or how to fix the mess they're in. But a physical reminder? It makes this all too real.

And why is that bad? he asks himself angrily. It's _supposed_ to be real. Isn't that the point of all this? He's being a coward, and he's wasting both of their time with his bullshit. At least Viktor's trying. At least he's doing something. What has Yuuri done? At all?

Viktor speaks so suddenly that Yuuri jumps. His voice is light and casual, but Yuuri thinks he can hear it tremble.

"I had other gifts in mind, but I understand if you don't accept because it makes you uncomfortable. I mean it, it's fine! I just... wanted to treat you on your birthday, I guess. But if you don't --"

"Of course," Yuuri says without thinking, blushing and nearly breathless, "it's fine, please, I accept! And," he adds, reaching over and carefully lifting the ring box out of Viktor's hands, "I'll accept this, too. I'll... when I'm ready, I'll let you know. But for now, we'll do whatever else you planned. Does that sound fine?"

Viktor's smile is slow but brimming with growing excitement as he nods, and Yuuri wonders what the hell he's just agreed to. He's not sure if he wants to ask. But he feels very warm. Viktor's so incredibly happy at just the thought of treating him for his birthday. That's what a good boyfriend does, Yuuri thinks guiltily.

It occurs to him now that Viktor exists and therefore also has a birthday, but suddenly Viktor's up and pacing again, phone in hand. Whoever picks up his call doesn't sound too happy to hear from him. It must be Yakov. Yes, he can hear the muffled screaming. Viktor seems to be pleading with him, his tone nearly cajoling. Yuuri can hear very colorful Russian bursting from the tiny phone in response.

Yuuri sighs and turns back to his laptop. He might as well try to actually study, because he hasn't exactly been keeping up with that. The thought of his family telling him how proud they were of him is incentive enough to get him off his ass.

Viktor's voice becomes soothing background noise, and when it stops, it's almost distracting. He wants to hear more. But he has to focus.

He hears it again when Phichit returns. The two of them chat as Yuuri studies, and it isn't until the sound of their giggling becomes unbearable that Yuuri turns to glare over his shoulder. But he softens immediately.

They're lounging on the bed, and Phichit is in the middle of braiding Viktor's hair into neat silver plaits. Viktor seems to enjoy this very much, almost melting at the feeling of fingers through his hair, and when Phichit scritches his scalp, he actually sighs. Yuuri finds this extremely amusing. And way too adorable.

They're snorting and giggling because they're watching something on Viktor's phone. Viktor taps at the screen excitedly, and Phichit pauses to lean closer.

"Oh, this one's my _favorite_. Look at that guy's face. He's so mad!"

"Wow," Phichit breathes, his eyes lighting up with mischief, "this is _so_ much cooler than when Yuuri shows me!"

"Shows you what?" Yuuri frowns, rolling his chair over.

The two of them exchange glances, drawing the phone closer to themselves almost coyly. They look like they're both trying very hard not to start giggling again. Yuuri huffs and turns back around, giving up. 

"Sorry, didn't realize I wasn't invited to the Special Best Friends Club --  _ack!_ " He chokes on his words as his chair is yanked back, and two sets of arms encircle him from behind. Viktor sticks his phone in front of his face, waving it excitedly.

"We're only joking, Yuuri! Watch!"

Yuuri glances at the screen and immediately knows what it is.

It's Viktor.

Actually, it's Viktor's back, because he's running away.

The camera is unsteady, and people keep moving in front of it, blocking Viktor from view, but Yuuri sees one last flick of silver hair before he's lost from sight. The sounds of frustrated Alphas fill the background, low growls and grumbling, and one in particular looks so absolutely enraged that he nearly slaps the camera away when it gets too close. Viktor laughs softly in Yuuri's ear.

"Ah, that Monsignor wasn't very happy with me for interrupting that morning's Mass." He sighs fondly. "That was such a fun little trip to Barcelona. You should take me someday, Yuuri! The cathedral is very romantic."

Yuuri ignores him, staring dully at the screen as the video ends. There. That Viktor. The one that had set his heart on fire for so long. It's still burning within him, that same heart, but the man in the video is starting to seem like more of a stranger. When Yuuri shifts slightly, he can see Viktor behind him for just a split second, his face reflected in the screen of his phone.

There. _That_ Viktor.

Yuuri rolls away again quickly, much to Phichit and Viktor's disappointment, and he tries his hardest to focus on his studies. He tries his hardest to focus on anything but the memory of Viktor's breath against his ear, or the sound of Viktor's laughter behind him.

He's pretty sure he's been reading the same line over and over by the time Phichit leaves to his last class for the day. The laptop screen is too bright, and he blinks, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. No, he needs to wake up. He shakes his head lightly, and Viktor looks up from where he's been dozing in his nest.

"Yuuri? Are you okay?"

"Tired," Yuuri sighs. His stomach growls. "And hungry," he adds wearily. When will his suffering end?

Viktor hops to his feet, looking determined.

"I'll bring you something! Anything you want. Just name it, and I'll go fetch." He bats his lashes, and Yuuri's face starts to heat up.

"I, um, anything is fine, really. Surprise me?"

Viktor, either excited to have something to do or excited to serve Yuuri in any way, bounds out the door like an overeager puppy on a mission. Yuuri watches him go fondly.

Yes. That Viktor.

He's become so real so fast, and Yuuri thinks he's starting to get used to it. He almost laughs out loud when he recalls his older fantasies. A mysterious and suave Viktor, meeting him by chance across a crowded room, picking him out from hundreds of others, even thousands, and sweeping him off his feet in the most seductive way possible. The two of them falling madly in love, mating, Bonding, becoming one. Together. Forever.

They aren't exactly off to a bad start, Yuuri realizes. His fantasy had come to life, and as much of a botched fuck-up as it's been, is it really that different from what he's always wanted? Viktor's still sort of mysterious. He's kind of suave. Ish. And he's most definitely seductive. But there's so much more to a person than just that. 

He's real, and he's mine, Yuuri thinks, determined to believe this. He hears a sharp knock at the door and looks up in surprise. And he's here? Already?

The door isn't locked, but Viktor probably has his hands full. Yuuri scrambles to his feet, suddenly very eager to see him again. He's missed him, and he's ready to admit it.

But when he opens the door, it isn't Viktor.

"Hey," Mila says, Yuri scowling beside her. "We need to talk."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really long! But I had a blast writing it <3

Yuuri sits heavily on his bed, fighting down his rising panic. He gestures vaguely at the desk chairs, attempting to at least be a good host to the trouble that's just made itself welcome.

Yuri throws himself into Yuuri's chair, rolling into a slow spin and immediately looking bored. Mila, however, remains standing, arms crossed as she looks Yuuri up and down. Yuuri tries to sit still, but it isn't exactly easy. His heart is already beating twice as hard as usual.

"Something tells me this isn't exactly a friendly and casual visit."

"Not casual, no, but it _is_ friendly," Mila assures him. "We don't mean you any harm, Yuuri."

Harm? Yuuri bristles at this, and Mila immediately senses her misstep. "We're not here to start shit, is what I mean," she adds quickly.

"We kind of are," Yuri points out. Mila shoots him a glare before turning back to Yuuri, looking as though she's ready to get down to business. Yuuri appreciates that she isn't the type to beat around the bush, because his anxiety is nearly giving him double-vision.

"You're keeping Viktor in here."

Yuuri's jaw drops. Of all the possibilities, Viktor being the subject of this little meeting had been low on the list. And only because it's _always_ on the list -- Yuuri is constantly on edge, ready for any moment that Viktor may gain someone's notice. And it seems like he had, because Mila is staring at him intently, waiting for an answer.

"I-uh, well, I'm not _keeping_ him, he's just, uh... here?"

"Yes," Mila says, "he's here." She pauses, and deep blue eyes pin him in place as her gaze sharpens without warning. "Why?"

Yuuri would love to provide an answer. He really would. What is he supposed to say? He thinks of how far he and Viktor had come since the day he'd barged into his life, and realizes that it isn't very far at all. So how does he explain all of this? How does he explain their Bond? As much as he wants to, he can't explain how or why Viktor chose him, of all people. Of all Alphas. Yuuri frowns suddenly. 

"Why do you care?"

The words are barely out of his mouth before he understands. He sees the look that passes between the siblings before him, and suddenly he _sees_. 

"You know him."

Mila and Yuri exchange another glance, and Yuuri takes that short moment to compose himself in spite of his oncoming meltdown. Yes, they know him. Somehow, they know Viktor, and they're here to talk about that with him. But, why?

Mila doesn't keep him waiting. "Yeah, we know him. We grew up with him."

Yuuri stares in shock. 

"You mean... like... like --"

"Not family," Mila cuts him off. "No, not exactly. But we grew up with him for some time."

There's another short silence as Yuuri tries to process this. Alright. No big deal. Viktor is a person. People have family. Or not-exactly-family, apparently. Why does that matter?

"So. You grew up together. In Russia?" Yuuri hazards a guess. He knows that they moved here in their childhood, though he doesn't know the specifics. That much is obvious now.

"Yeah," Yuri says, sneering. "When dyadka dragged his sorry ass home."

Yuuri stares at him. _Who_ dragged Viktor where? He struggles to remember the basic Russian he'd tried to learn so long ago.

"That means... uncle? Right?"

"Right," Mila says before Yuri can make some smartass remark. "Our uncle brought Viktor home one day. He had to," she adds, giving Yuri a stern look. Yuri shrugs and spins in his chair, looking bored again. Mila turns back to Yuuri.

"Viktor was... troubled. To put it nicely. He wasn't safe, so our uncle took him in. He's been taking care of him ever since."

"Yakov?" Yuuri asks quietly. Mila blinks at him in surprise. 

"Yes. He told you about Yakov?" She looks at him thoughtfully as he nods hesitantly. "Interesting..."

"What does this matter? Your uncle took care of Viktor, so what? Why are you guys here?"

This time Yuri is quick to respond. Boot-clad feet hit the floor with a loud  _thud_ as he stops mid-spin in his chair, leaning forward to glare at him.

"Because you aren't safe, asshole. He's using you."

Yuuri feels something within himself crack, but he tries to hold its pieces together to stop it from shattering.

"What?" he whispers, eyes wide.

"You think he woke up one day and decided to make it his job to fuck with every Alpha on the fucking planet? He _hates_  us. I've seen Alphas stronger than you all wrapped around his little finger. He breaks every heart that gets in his way. And he'll break yours, too."

Yuuri swallows hard, because he feels like he's going to throw up. No, this can't be real. Viktor? Hate him? Use him? He pictures his smile, his eyes, and he can just barely smell him on the tip of his tongue. A tongue that's suddenly too heavy, a mouth that's suddenly too dry. He tries to speak, but he can't. 

"Yuri is exaggerating," Mila says, though her tone isn't exactly comforting. "But like I said, he's trouble. He goes after people, after Alphas, but doesn't let anyone get too close. Yakov helps make sure of that."

"Why?" Yuuri's voice cracks as he says it. He isn't sure what exactly he's asking, but he knows that he wants answers.

"What, why is Yakov helping?" She shrugs. "He practically raised him. He was his tutor before he took him in. We don't know what happened to his parents," she says, answering his look, "but it's not exactly rocket science."

"Oh, they're fucking dead," Yuri says with a wicked laugh. "Where else would they be? I saw the look on dyadka's face the day he brought Viktor home. It wasn't a very happy look."

There's a long silence, and Yuuri can finally hear himself screaming. How long has his mind been screaming? He feels a sudden twinge of surprise, then of concern. A familiar tingling in his skull. Getting stronger.

_Viktor._

"He's coming back. You guys should go."

Yuri laughs again, leaning back like he doesn't have a care in the world. "Oh, we'll smell him coming. And he'll smell us, too."

Yuuri finds that he's curious about this, despite the heavy tension. "You can still smell him?"

"We're Pack," Mila explains. "You can't hide from your Pack."

Yuuri nods slowly. If Viktor had become Pack with Mila and Yuri, it was as good as saying they were family. It's a Bond of sorts -- common among adopted siblings. Yuuri remembers trying this with Phichit once when they were younger, back before they had ever met in person. They had spent a lot of time staring at each other intently, hoping that a Bond could happen across miles and through laptop screens. But Betas weren't meant to be in Packs, they had soon learned very sadly. 

Pack. No wonder Yuri had always seemed suspicious of something. Not even Viktor could hide his powerful scent from his Pack-brother. Not for long.

"Yakov made sure we made that Bond. Viktor would have never lived with two unrelated Alphas otherwise."

Yuri scrunches up his nose. "Ugh, like I'd ever slobber over his ass like other Alphas. _Gross_."

"Well," Yuuri says, still wrestling his barely-contained anxiety, "you should go anyway. I... I don't want to hear this. I don't believe you." He wishes his voice were as convincing as his words, because he sees Yuri smirk and Mila raise an eyebrow. But Mila's expression soon softens.

"Look, Yuuri, you don't have to believe us. Just... please, be careful. You're our friend. We don't want you to get hurt."

"Thank you," Yuuri says, not entirely sure if he means it. He doesn't look at them as they leave. He's too busy staring across the room. Staring at Viktor's nest.

A nest. A home. What does Viktor consider 'home?'

Yuuri's still sitting on his own bed when Viktor returns. He wishes it weren't so easy for him to be ripped from his own thoughts at the mere sight of him, at the sound of his voice and the lingering scent on his clothes. But it is, and his head snaps to him, watching him set down the meal he'd fetched. Yuuri's stomach twists, and suddenly he's lost his appetite.

Viktor tries not to make a show of scenting the air, but Yuuri notices anyway. He braces himself as Viktor turns to him.

"Mila and Yuri were here?"

Yuuri's heart plummets. He knows.

"Yes."

Viktor seems to consider this, nodding slowly and sinking into the chair Yuri had been in. "I see. I was wondering when they'd talk to you."

"So you guys are some sort of weird and fucked up family, and no one was going to tell me?" Yuuri blurts. Viktor doesn't seem very startled by his outburst.

"It's not really important, is it? Lots of people have families. Especially weird and fucked up ones." He grins at him. Yuuri can't bring himself to return it. He's lost in that smile -- so charming and genuine, lips now curving into something soft and secret. A smile just for him. Or is it? How many others had received that smile?

Yuuri tries to shove that thought away, but it keeps coming back to bother him. He shouldn't care about any Alphas Viktor may have flirted with in the past. But, the thought urges, he should care about any Alphas Viktor might have _used_ in the past. Had he lured them with that smile? That sweet smile, that sweet scent. A deadly combination. Yuuri shudders.

"Yuuri? Are you okay? Here, you should eat."

"I'm fine," he says quietly, feeling himself start to crash. Silent panic tends to waste a lot of energy. "I'm sorry, I'm just really tired right now. I'll eat it tomorrow. Okay?"

He curls up on his side, facing away from Viktor before he can respond. A sort of resigned pain echoes along their Bond, and Yuuri clenches his fists so hard that he winces as his nails dig into his skin. Viktor's already growing used to rejection. Yuuri desperately wants to go to him, to fall into his arms, but all he can picture is Yuri's sneer.

_He hates us._

No, Yuuri thinks, struggling to stay awake despite the sleep settling heavily over him, that's not true. I'm different. I'm the only person who can ever know Viktor's love.

His dreams are empty, but something dark creeps along the edges. Waiting.

Despite the stressful revelation, the rest of the week passes in a quick blur. Yuuri starts to relax with every new day, Mila and Yuri's words fading to the back of his mind. They can't be true. Whatever family drama is going on, it's clouded their judgement. After all, Yuuri doesn't even know Viktor's side of the story. And the more time he spends with him, the more he believes in him.

Viktor is as sweet as always, following after him like a puppy, so eager to please him. It makes Yuuri feel kind of awkward. He still has no idea how to show affection. And he has no way of judging how good of a boyfriend he's being to Viktor, because he's sure that Viktor would praise him no matter what. Now he feels awkward _and_ guilty.

They'd tried going on a few dates -- although Yuuri still isn't sure if he'd call them that. Is Thanksgiving dinner at the nearest Chinese restaurant considered a date if Phichit is there? Not likely. But the two of them were certainly going out more often, exploring the nearly-abandoned campus at their leisure while most of the students were away during the small break.

They've just finished lunch under their tree one chilly afternoon when Viktor suddenly leans very close.

"Yuuri. I can't keep this from you any longer."

Every negative thought Yuuri has ever had in his entire life floods his mind at once, but Viktor speaks before he can completely shut down in fear.

"The plans I had for your birthday? I changed them a little. I wanted to surprise you tomorrow morning, but I think sooner is better. So you'll have time to pack."

Yuuri's fear dissipates, shock replacing it, closely followed by an intense curiosity. Pack? Where are they going? Yuuri loves traveling, and the thought of going somewhere new with Viktor is giving him all kinds of strange feelings.

"What's going on?"

"Well," Viktor starts, cautiously reaching out to hold his hand. Yuuri intertwines their fingers, and Viktor smiles in relief as he continues. "I was planning to have Yakov come here and take us somewhere nice. But now, I want us to go to him. To my apartment. Yuuri, will you come with me to New York?"

Yuuri gapes at him, excitement starting to wash over him in silent waves. New York? With Viktor? He feels his brain flatline, but his mouth works on its own.

"Yes!" He blushes hard. God, don't sound so _pathetic_.

But the look on Viktor's face is so worth the embarrassment. Viktor leans forward again, then pauses nervously. 

"I... can I --"

"Yes," Yuuri says again, letting his mouth do whatever the hell it wants, no questions asked. He doesn't know what Viktor means to do until he feels his arms around him.

Yuuri reacts on instinct, his arms wrapping around Viktor in return to pull him into a tighter hug. He feels Viktor's body start to shake, and a warm nose presses into his neck. He gasps sharply when Viktor starts to nuzzle him, a soft purr growing in his chest, and Viktor takes that as a sign to pull away quickly.

"Sorry! Was that too much?"

It wasn't enough, Yuuri almost pants, but he keeps that to himself as he leans back against their tree. He stares into the distance, looking but not really seeing. His mind and heart are racing. 

New York. With Viktor. In his apartment. Penthouse, he remembers. The two of them alone in Viktor's lavish New York penthouse. Probably someplace uppity and pretentious. Yuuri's willing to bet money on Manhattan. 

He's so caught up on this for the rest of the day that he doesn't even realize it when midnight strikes and he becomes a whole year older. He definitely doesn't feel different. Actually, he thinks, pausing in the middle of packing his duffel bag and side-eyeing Viktor, he feels plenty different. He'd say that he doesn't feel older, but he feels somehow wiser, but that sounds like something a fake-deep tool would say, so he pretends the thought hadn't happened.

He doesn't have much time to think about this, because Phichit comes slipping and sliding out of the bathroom, half-dressed and half-dried, and proceeds to punch him hard in the stomach. Yuuri hacks violently and falls to his knees, and Phichit follows, tackling him and in hysterics, wheezing that he had meant to punch his arm, and ordering him to stay still so he could punch him another twenty one times. And an extra for good luck.

Viktor stops packing and comes over to watch, looking incredibly amused.

"Yuuri! Is this how you celebrate birthdays in college?"

"No," Yuuri chokes, trying to wriggle free from Phichit's strangling arm, "just this -- _asshole_ , Phi-"

Phichit spares him his birthday punches, opting for a very sloppy and tongue-y kiss instead. Yuuri protests loudly, turning to Viktor for help, but Viktor immediately takes Phichit's side.

"I'm surrounded by traitors," Yuuri groans, struggling to his feet and dropping onto his bed. Phichit flops after him, curling up and looking ready to pass out. Viktor watches, hovering hesitantly before turning away towards his own bed. Yuuri sits up and speaks without thinking.

"Wait, Viktor."

Viktor pauses, and the look of dawning hope in his eyes is almost too much to bear. Yuuri swallows nervously and wills his voice to be steady.

"You can. Um. You can sleep here tonight, if you want?"

Phichit nods encouragingly, his arms outstretched, and Viktor slides into them neatly, burrowing into his warmth. Yuuri sits back for a moment to watch them, and something in his heart starts to sing. These are the two most important people in my life, he realizes suddenly. Aside from his family, of course. It should strike him as something weird, thinking so highly of Viktor so soon.

But it doesn't. It feels... natural?

Sleepy blue eyes meet his, and Yuuri can hear another song answer his own. He settles down at Phichit's other side, wrapping his arm around him. When his hand meets Viktor's, he laces their fingers without hesitation.

"Happy birthday, Yuuri," Viktor whispers over the sound of Phichit's soft and steady breathing. Yuuri squeezes his hand and drifts off, safe and warm. His last thoughts are of the weekend, and how he'd be spending it with Viktor.

He's woken up far too early the next day. Viktor practically drags him out of bed, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, babbling about taxis and flights and who-the-fuck-knows-what-else, and Yuuri groggily follows along, too tired to protest. He throws his bed one last coveted look as they leave, jealous of Phichit's peacefully sleeping form beneath the sheets. Bastard.

He dozes off in the taxi, and is gently shaken awake when they arrive at an airport much smaller than the one he had been expecting. Viktor owns a private jet -- of fucking _course_. It's small, but it's very comfortable, and Yuuri easily knocks out for the next two hours. He leans his head against Viktor's shoulder, soothed by his faint scent as he's lulled to sleep. Viktor's face presses against his hair, and Yuuri can hear the soft sound of his breathing in his dreams.

He blinks in the bright sunlight as they step off of the jet and onto the runway, shifting his bag on his shoulder and pulling his coat tighter around himself. It isn't snowing yet, but he can feel it coming. He yawns widely then stops halfway, jaw dropping. There's someone waiting for them in the distance.

Yuuri can't focus on him, though, because the hot pink convertible is fucking blinding him.

"Is that... a Cadillac?"

Viktor settles a pair of slim dark shades on his nose and bounds towards it, dragging Yuuri with him. "Yes! A '76, and very rare, you know. Bicentennial edition. Very expensive. Only two hundred ever made."

Yuuri can't even imagine the price, but he's certain it's in the tens of thousands. He's not a car person, but Otabek is, and he recalls his rare and occasional gushing over limited edition vehicles.

"And you... had it painted pink?" 

Viktor only laughs, and it isn't until they're right in front of it that Yuuri finally tears his attention away and back to the man leaning against the door.

He looks angry. But then again, he has the sort of face that suggests that he's always angry. He must be on the older side of middle-aged, and the bald spot and severe lines in his rough face only make it more evident. With every step Viktor takes towards him, the lines seem to deepen.

 _"Dedushka!"_ Viktor cries, throwing his arms wide and beaming. The venomous glare he gets in response can only mean that this man must be Yakov.

"Don't call me that, brat!" he snarls, but he doesn't resist when Viktor pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. He even pats his back, though he does it a bit reluctantly.

Viktor pulls away and drops to the ground, taking Yuuri by surprise until he finally notices that there's a large dog by Yakov's side. It had been sitting so serenely that Yuuri hadn't even noticed it was there. Viktor ruffles the dog's curling light brown fur, laughing with delight as it licks his face happily. He turns to Yuuri and grins, and Yuuri feels his heart skip a beat, because the joy in Viktor's eyes is as blinding as the goddamned ridiculous pink car.

"Yuuri! This is Makkachin. Come say hello!"

The smile forming on Yuuri's face as he moves forward dies, and his hand freezes halfway to the dog's head.

Makkachin is missing an eye.

Viktor seems to misinterpret his hesitation, taking Yuuri's hand and guiding him. "She doesn't bite, Yuuri, don't be afraid. She's a good girl. My best girl!"

Yuuri pets her gently, and she licks his hand lovingly, her fluffy tail thumping against the pavement in content. But Yuuri can't stop looking at the stark emptiness in her face. He wants to ask about it, but he isn't sure if it's rude. He wouldn't want to offend her.

"My best girl," Viktor repeats softly, scratching behind her ears. "She takes good care of me. Don't you, girl? Better than Yakov, anyway."

Yakov grunts, reaching for the driver's door, but Viktor beats him to it, plucking the keys out of his hand neatly. He gives them a playful jingle before hopping over the door and settling into the car's nice white leather seat, cheerfully calling for them to hurry up and get in. Yakov grumbles something under his breath, and as he heads around to the passenger's side, Yuuri guesses that he's in the back with Makkachin. The fluffy brown poodle leads the way, leaping in and stretching across Yuuri's lap the moment he buckles in.

And Yuuri's glad that he's buckled in, because Viktor drives like the devil is blowing smoke up his ass. There's a lot of screaming, mostly from Yakov -- Viktor is too busy laughing. The two speak loudly over the sounds of city traffic, rapid and incomprehensible Russian, and Yuuri gives up trying to follow. He clings to Makkachin for dear life as he marvels at skyscrapers and bustling crowds and flashing signs. He'd only been here once, because when he and Phichit had first come to the US, grand New York City was the first place they had wanted to visit. He's ready to make new memories. Memories with Viktor.

With the top down, Viktor's hair whips in the brisk autumn air. It's mesmerizing. He suddenly has the uneasy feeling that he isn't the only one who thinks so, but when he glances around, he doesn't see anyone looking purposefully in their direction. Relax, he tells himself, then clutches Makkachin desperately as Viktor sharply rounds a corner mere inches from deadpan pedestrians.

In midtown Manhattan, _of course,_ they pull up to what Yuuri is sure is the tallest building in the entire city. It's ridiculous. It's mind boggling. He boggles at it. Mindlessly.

"You _live_ here?" he whispers as Viktor hops out and tosses his keys to a smiling valet. The smile widens when Viktor tips him graciously.

"Sometimes!" is his only answer, and Yuuri follows him and Yakov, dazed and at a loss for further words, wondering why rich people are _like this_. Makkachin trots after them through the lobby as if she owns the place. No one seems to mind, and if they do, they don't say anything. Yuuri's certain that Viktor's wallet makes sure of that.

Yuuri wishes he could say he's surprised when they step into a private elevator. He's starting to set his expectations very high when it comes to Viktor's apparent billionaire status. His head swims as they rise endlessly, up and up and up, and Viktor reaches out a hand to steady him. He doesn't remove it until the doors open, and the warm spot on Yuuri's arm suddenly seems cold and aching when he pulls away.

When they enter Viktor's penthouse, Yuuri nearly stumbles again.

To say that it's fucking huge is an understatement. 

They step into an impressive foyer, and the first thing Yuuri notices is how _white_ everything is. Pristine. There's an un-lived in quality to the air, the furniture, the walls. But somehow it's still warm, still welcoming -- harsh and stark white softened by undertones of cream and tan. The air is still, but it isn't stale.

Makkachin leads them to the living room, and Yuuri is immediately caught in the crossfire of warm rays of sunlight beaming through magnificent windows. He rushes to the nearest one immediately, unable to resist pressing his face against the glass like an awestruck child. He can see the entire city from this top level penthouse, and the sight is dizzying. The windows of thousands of buildings glimmer back at him, though he towers over them by far. 

He's a bit busy squinting down at the park, trying to make out the tiny figures below, so he doesn't realize that Viktor's beside him until he sees him out of the corner of his eye, settling down onto the large windowsill. He leans back against the glass, closing his eyes and seeming to bask in the early afternoon sun. Yuuri finds that the view of the city is suddenly a lot less captivating than what he has in front of him.

"Well? Enjoying it all so far?" Viktor's eyes are still closed, but he's smiling.

"It's incredible," Yuuri breathes, sounding far more impressed than he had been willing to admit. This earns him eyes like the skies above, just as blue and twice as deep. Viktor looks a lot more at ease now, as if he'd been waiting for Yuuri's approval. 

"I'll give you the grand tour tonight," Viktor says with a sly grin, standing and stretching. "But right now, it's time to go!"

Yuuri blinks at him. Go? Already?

Before he can ask, Viktor turns to Yakov and gives him A Look, and Yuuri feels his heart pound harder as the old man rolls his eyes and leaves, whistling at Makkachin to follow. There's a silence as the door shuts, and as the gradual ding of the elevator fades, Viktor finally looks back at Yuuri. He starts to pull something out of his coat pocket, and Yuuri somehow doesn't feel particularly surprised. Viktor had mentioned having gifts for him for his birthday. He braces himself anyway, his cheeks flushing as Viktor steps closer.

"Yuuri," Viktor starts softly, slowly opening a long and thin box, "I hope this isn't asking too much of you. I never meant to make you uncomfortable with the rings, and I'm fine with waiting. But." He pauses, removing the top completely, and Yuuri's eyes widen at what's inside. "Well, I know that you don't want us to match right now, but I still want the world to know who owns me."

There's a collar in the box, sitting on a plush velvet cushion. Narrow and black leather, smelling crisp and new. The gold buckles are just as blinding as the rings, Yuuri thinks, starting to feel weak. At least there's no 'Pochi' tag. Though he wouldn't put it past Viktor to suggest that addition.

"Viktor," he croaks, then pauses to clear his throat. "Viktor, I -- this is a little old-fashioned, don't you think? And I don't own you, I --"

Viktor starts to withdraw, already giving a resigned nod, but Yuuri reaches out quickly to stop him.

"Wait! Wait. That isn't -- I mean, I'm not saying no! I, um, I just." He knows his face must be on fire right now, and it only burns brighter as he gently removes the collar from its box. Viktor seems to be waiting with bated breath, his face pale.

"Thank you," Yuuri says softly, and oddly enough, he feels his nerves give way to something smooth and calm. His hands no longer shake as he unbuckles the collar. "I accept. Come here, Viktor. Sit."

Viktor sits on the windowsill again, looking up at him eagerly. Yuuri slips the collar around his neck, lifting aside his soft silver hair as he buckles it securely. He slides his fingers between the leather and Viktor's skin, making sure it isn't too tight. They stop at Viktor's throat, at the small gold hoop, and it gleams at him invitingly. Every window in the living room seems to be focusing its glare at the gold around Viktor's neck. Yuuri has to fight down the strong impulse to grab it and tug Viktor towards him.

Their eyes meet, and Yuuri can smell him. Faint but sweet, and an undertone of something dark and desperate. Viktor's neck is just as soft as he had dreamed it would be. His fingers start to twitch against it, and Viktor's eyes darken, his pupils dilating alarmingly fast. Yuuri snaps out of it and draws back, suddenly finding it very hard to breathe.

"Well," he says a little too loudly, "now what?"

Viktor blinks at him slowly, seeming entranced, but he's soon back on his feet, beaming at him.

"Now, it's time to go," he repeats, drawing him towards the door.

"Go where?" Yuuri finally asks. Viktor's smile only widens.

By the time they exit the third store -- or the fifth, he's lost count -- nearly two hours later, Yuuri has long since given up protesting. Especially since Viktor is now dragging him off to another, absolutely mad with shopping lust.

"You don't need to spend all your money on me, Viktor!"

Viktor's arms are full of bags and boxes -- shoes and watches and shirts and pants and too many other things he's lost track of, all for Yuuri. Yakov follows behind, several tightly packaged new suits and tuxedos slung carefully over one arm. He glares at the back of Viktor's head, watching him nearly prance off towards the next store. Makkachin bounds after him, twice as excited.

"It isn't _his_ money, the bastard."

Yuuri blinks at him. It isn't? He looks at Viktor, who either hasn't heard or hasn't acknowledged the remark. His face, half obscured by a thick and heavy scarf, is already pressed against a shop window. A bakery. He rushes inside, and despite the fragrant warmth that wafts out from the open door, Yuuri decides to wait outside. He realizes that he's yet to be alone with Yakov, and a thousand questions surge forward in his mind. He has to remind himself to keep them simple.

"Whose money is it?"

Yakov snorts loudly, leaning back against the wall and glaring at nothing in particular. Yuuri leans up beside him, waiting.

"Inheritance. And my own." Yakov says this very casually, even shrugging as he does. It's very anticlimactic. He doesn't seem to have anything more to say, and they lapse into a silence that's only half as awkward as Yuuri had suspected it might be.

Viktor comes bustling back out, cheerfully dumping his shopping bags down onto the sidewalk and shoving sweet pastries at Yuuri's face. Yuuri nearly chokes on one as Viktor suddenly pulls him into a tight hug.

"Thank you, Yuuri," he whispers in his ear, and Yuuri's cold skin tingles at the feel of gentle puffs of warm breath against it. "Thank you for being here with me." He pulls away, grinning at him, and Yuuri senses a grand announcement about to be made.

"Yuuri, I have another surprise for you later tonight! But let's keep shopping, okay?"

Like he has a choice. But the more Viktor buys, the happier he seems, and Yuuri realizes that there's something warm glowing in his chest. He feels a tingling in his head, and Viktor's joy seeps through him, filling him, and the next time Viktor places a full bag in his arms, he starts to laugh. Viktor looks a bit surprised, but he laughs along with him, and soon enough the two of them are giggling like children in the middle of Macy's, and to hell with anyone giving them strange looks.

And they have been getting a few looks, Yuuri thinks, a familiar panic creeping down his spine every time he notices. Viktor's put a little more care into his outfit, hair swept up into a warm knit hat, collar of his thick coat up, shades in place over his eyes. He looks almost like the average douche with too much money, and therefore not a spectacle. Not in this city, anyway. And with that in mind, Yuuri brushes off any lingering fears.

They stop by a high-end perfume store, and when Viktor asks him what he wants, he just shakes his head. He'd sometimes toyed with the idea of spraying something to hide his Alpha scent, especially when he was younger, as his own had been overpowering and embarrassing since puberty. It had always made him uncomfortable, suppressors having little effect on it, but as he eyes the various sample bottles on display, he realizes that he doesn't need them. And, he thinks, blushing as Viktor steps back towards him, he wants his own scent on Viktor. 

Viktor seems to read his mind, and he bats his lashes as him, nose twitching as he draws closer. "That's okay. I prefer your... _natural_  cologne." He winks, and Yuuri almost trips out of the automatic sliding doors as they leave.

The sun is already hovering at the edge of the horizon, and Viktor lets out a very loud and very content sigh, hefting his many shopping bags with much satisfaction.

"That was fun! Come on, let's go back to the apartment. We have to start getting ready!"

Oh, God, Yuuri thinks, trailing behind as the four of them make the long trek back. What the hell is Viktor planning? He hopes it isn't too exhausting, because by the time they enter the living room, Yuuri is damn near ready to drop. Viktor's energy levels seem completely unaffected, and Yuuri watches him wearily as he tosses down armfuls of bags and boxes, taking the ones from Yakov and throwing them down as well. He crouches to pick through them excitedly, muttering to himself and pausing every now and then to ruffle Makkachin's fur as she pokes her nose around curiously.

Yakov leaves, telling Viktor to call him when they're ready. Yuuri turns to Viktor as soon as the door closes.

"Ready for what? Where are we going now?"

Viktor straightens back up, one of Yuuri's new suits and a pair of new shoes in his arms, and beams at him. 

"Yuuri! We're going out. Someplace nice," he clarifies when Yuuri gives him an exasperated look. "And we aren't going right away, relax!"

"I wish," Yuuri mutters, sinking back into one of the large sofas. The words 'someplace nice' strike fear into his heart -- he feels like a scruffy street rat wherever he goes, no matter how dressed up he attempts to get. Maybe, he thinks dully, watching Viktor lay out his clothes, a two thousand dollar Armani suit might make him clean up nicely. Maybe.

"Hey," he says, suddenly remembering something, "what happened to the grand tour?"

Viktor's smile is absolutely dazzling, and Yuuri soon finds himself being led around a penthouse five times bigger than he had thought it was. He's lost count of the number of bedrooms and bathrooms, not to mention the handful of other smaller miscellaneous rooms. He wonders briefly if any of Viktor's videos had been filmed here. Maybe even the one that had inspired him. But, there's no piano in sight, so he doubts it. 'Untitled' must have been shot in some other fabulously extravagant home.

Viktor pauses in the entryway to the kitchen, gesturing down the long hallway at a large set of doors at the very end.

"That's the master bedroom," he says in a tone that suggests that he'd show it to him later, and Yuuri's mind immediately sinks into the gutter. Into the New York sewers. There's probably mutant rats down there, or maybe a giant alligator, and Yuuri wishes they'd devour his thoughts, because he can't get the image of the master bedroom door and what lies behind it out of his head. One last thought slips out, wondering what sort of videos Viktor might have taken in _there_.

Viktor excuses himself from the kitchen to step into the wine cellar -- _the fucking wine cellar_ \-- and Yuuri takes a moment to gaze out windows just as large as the ones in the living room. The glowing lights of the surrounding buildings are shining bright as the sun dies, and Yuuri watches the entire city come to life. It's huge, he thinks, feeling an irrational stab of panic. It's so huge, and he's hardly seen any of it. Just like this apartment. Just like Viktor's life. I don't know anything, he thinks, I don't know a fucking thing, and I'm here. What am I doing here?

_He hates us._

What? Why? Why now? It isn't true, it isn't true, it isn't --

His unexpected hysteria is cut short when Viktor returns, a very expensive-looking bottle of champagne in hand. Yuuri eyes it warily, his heart still racing.

"Pre-gaming?"

"Celebrating," Viktor corrects him, grinning slyly. "The finest for you, Yuuri!"

Yuuri watches crystal clear glasses slowly fill with liquid gold from an equally golden bottle. He gapes in disbelief.

"Is that bottle... _actually_ gold?"

"Just plated," Viktor says, sounding almost sheepish. "Is it too much?"

Yuuri just shakes his head slowly, squinting at the bottle. A smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth. "Moët and Chandon? Why am I not surprised?"

"It's extraordinarily nice," Viktor points out, and Yuuri lets out a surprised laugh. Viktor seems very satisfied at this, handing him his glass with a small flourish.

"A toast," Viktor begins, lifting his, and Yuuri's meets it with a sharp _clink,_ "to Yuuri Katsuki." Yuuri brings his glass to his face quickly to hide his blush.

The champagne is sweet and supple in his mouth, and he licks his lips slowly when he lowers his glass, savoring the taste. He stops when he sees Viktor staring over the top of his glass as he drinks, feeling his throat tighten suddenly. The gold buckles of the collar wink at him, sparkling like the drops on Viktor's lips.

"So," Yuuri says hurriedly, "where exactly are we going tonight?"

"I haven't decided, actually," Viktor admits, "but I'm on the list at several exclusive lounges. I was thinking that maybe we could just see where the night takes us."

It's going to take us _somewhere_ if you keep filling my glass, Yuuri thinks as Viktor tips the bottle once more. Then twice more. Yuuri likes to think of himself as a heavyweight. He doesn't like to brag, of course, but he can totally down a dozen shots without blinking -- and he has. It takes a lot to get him shitfaced, so when his head starts to spin, he's taken by surprise.

They're sitting on one of the deep windowsills, leaning against the glass and gazing at the flickering lights of the city as they talk. And that's just what they've been doing. Just talking. They've abandoned their glasses, opting to just drink directly from the bottle instead.

I'm indirectly kissing him, Yuuri thinks stupidly as he watches Viktor's lips press against the rim of the bottle, his tongue flicking out against the very last drops of sparkling pale gold. He sets aside the empty bottle with a dopey grin.

"So," he continues, "that's when I got my first piano. And I may or may not have accidentally set it on fire. It's a long story. Father was _furious._ "

"I almost set Phichit on fire once," Yuuri blurts, and Viktor's wild laughter is so infectious that he starts to giggle madly as well. "It wasn't -- _shh, no, stop_ \-- it wasn't my fault! I'm bad at Chemistry. Like, _really_ bad."

"Oh, I don't know," Viktor says a little coyly, leaning closer, "I'd say you're pretty great. At chemistry."

"Yeah," Yuuri murmurs, not getting it but wanting to agree anyway, because the way Viktor's looking at him makes him want to say anything to get him to come closer. And he does. The dim kitchen lights don't do his face justice, but Yuuri can see his eyes glow softly, reflecting the world below them. It seems so far away, that world, because now it's just the two of them. 

Our world, he thinks, and he swears he hears it echo in his mind. In _their_ mind.

Viktor's beautiful. He's always known that. But it hits him hard now. It hits him as hard as the champagne is hitting him, rolling over him in broiling waves, and suddenly it's hot, way too hot, and he's sweating. He's sweating, and he wonders if Viktor is too, because he sees his skin start to glisten. It looks so good. Yuuri bets it feels good, too. He wants to touch him. He wants to feel Viktor underneath his fingers.

But Viktor stands before Yuuri's hand can shoot out and grab him, humming absently and stretching. He turns to grin down at Yuuri, but it falters on his lips.

"Yuuri? You okay?"

"Sure," Yuuri says, struggling to his feet. He stumbles, and Viktor catches him quickly. His vision is swimming, spinning and unsteady, and Viktor is close. So close. Very, very, close.

"If you're not feeling well, we can stay in? Yuuri?"

Viktor lurches back suddenly, and Yuuri realizes that it's because he's shoved him against the wall. Viktor's eyes widen as he stares down at him in shock, but he says nothing, tense and waiting. The silence is too thick to handle, enveloping the two of them in something that leaves them slow and sluggish. Yuuri feels like he's moving through water, moving through champagne as his fingers make their way to Viktor's collar. It's so dark against his pale and pretty neck. Yuuri hooks a finger around the gold ring, his body tingling like a live wire, ready to twitch sharply at any moment. Viktor's breathing quickens as Yuuri speaks, his voice low and slurred.

"Viktor. I wanna stay here with you. I wanna..." His vision blurs, starting to tremble as he brings his free hand forward to slowly slide against Viktor's waist. Viktor's hips jerk slightly in surprise, and Yuuri's head spins twice as harshly at his soft gasp. "I want you, Viktor. I want you so bad."

He sounds like an idiot, he knows that, but that's just what he is -- a giant fucking idiot. An idiot for Viktor. He always has been. He wishes he could see his face better, but the city lights illuminate him from behind, throwing his face in shadows. But he can see the flutter of glistening lashes, silver, silver like his hair, flowing freely and glowing like a wild halo. Glowing, always glowing. Does Viktor always glow? He does. He always will. He's Yuuri's glowing silver moon. His silver ghost.

"I want you," Yuuri whispers, pressing closer, his grip on Viktor's collar tightening. Yes, his collar. Viktor belongs to him. Wait, does he? Yuuri feels a pang of guilt, but a pulse of desire throbs within him, and he can feel Viktor weaken, melting under his touch. His scent must be strong now, because he can hear Viktor start to inhale deeply, exhaling shakily. Yuuri dips his face into the crook of his neck, and the heat pounding there makes him dizzy, dizzier, and he lets out a low growl of frustration, because he wants to smell him. He wants to smell something other than fresh clothing, light cologne, soap, shampoo, anything that covers Viktor's faint scent. The scent he hides so well. Yuuri wants it. He _needs_ it.

"Give it to me, Viktor," he breathes, and Viktor whimpers in his ear, his hips jerking again. His scent hits hard, so hard that Yuuri's body seizes, and the smell of Viktor is so sweet, so dark, so intense, filling him, _ravaging_ him, and he moans loudly into Viktor's skin, his lips brushing against sweat and champagne and leather and  _Viktor_ \--

"Yuuri."

A single word, a strangled word. Viktor's trembling, and he's wet, Yuuri can smell that he's wet. And he's hard, Yuuri realizes, because when he bucks his hips forward, he can feel his cock through his pants. He feels it against his own, and it sends a jolt down his spine that's almost orgasmic, making his lips draw back, his teeth sharp and glistening with drool, hovering above Viktor's beating pulse. 

"Yuuri."

Yuuri pulls back, and now both hands are on Viktor's shoulders. He's not sure if he's trying to grab him or trying to stay standing. Probably both. He can't focus on Viktor's face. It keeps shifting, warping, spinning.

"Kiss me."

Who said that? Had those words come from his own lips? Or from Viktor's? Viktor answers that by leaning forward slowly. Very slowly. Yuuri closes his eyes, shaking hard and holding his breath in anticipation.

When he feels Viktor's lips, they're on his forehead.

"Yuuri," Viktor murmurs against his skin, "I think it's best if you go to bed."

"Bed?" Yuuri slurs, eyes fluttering back open. "Are we --"

"You," Viktor corrects him. " _You're_ going to bed, Yuuri."

He takes him by the hand, leading him out of the kitchen and down the hallway. Yuuri eyes the master bedroom doors longingly, but Viktor pauses halfway there, opening a different door. The room inside is spacious and lovely, but Yuuri is too drunk to appreciate it. The only thing he appreciates is the warmth of Viktor's hand, but it's torn away too soon. Viktor guides him to bed, but his hands hover, almost as if he's too afraid to touch him again. His scent has retreated, and Yuuri feels empty now. 

And suddenly he feels horrible. Stupid. His stomach twists, his insides lurching, and he turns away from Viktor quickly, scrambling into the bed without his help. He can't look at him. Not after what he had tried to do to him.

Is this why he hates us?

He doesn't. _He doesn't._

"Goodnight, Yuuri."

A lonely voice at the door, a resigned voice. Always resigned. How many times will he disappoint Viktor? Yuuri closes his eyes tight as Viktor leaves, willing the room to stop spinning and praying for his heart to stop aching.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for being so patient! My weekends have been busy and I'm also writing longer chapters! I think this one is my favorite so far~

He can see her face. She's beautiful, and Yuuri knows this because he can finally see her face. He can finally see her blue eyes.

Her lips move to form words that he can't hear. Over and over, endlessly, a strained whisper that Yuuri suddenly realizes is growing louder, fading in like crackling static, and he can _hear_ her now.

She's looking down at him, her face so soft and so frightened. Why is she looking down? Where is he? 

On the floor, someplace where the dark gathers quickly as she dissolves into silver mist. Her lips are still moving, still repeating the same warning in a language he just barely understands. 

_You have to --_

_"Hide!"_

Yuuri jerks awake with a gasp, and in his groggy daze he lurches up and looks around wildly in fear before realizing that it had been _his_ voice crying out. What had he said? The memory of the dream is slipping through his fingers already, fading into nothing.

He blinks in the sunlight streaming through the far window. From where he's sitting, he can see nothing but the sky. 

Right, he thinks, wincing at the dull throb in his head as the shock of the dream wears off, I'm in Viktor's apartment. He frowns, finding that the events of last night come back to him all too clearly. He remembers that he had collapsed here on the guest bed, alone and wasted.

He isn't alone anymore, he soon realizes. He grabs for his glasses and watches the brown blob beside him miraculously transform into Makkachin. She looks as though she'd been sound asleep before he'd had his little episode, and now she's looking at him with a kind of doggy concern. 

Yuuri pats her gently, scratching harder behind the ears when she whines for more. He can't help but grin.

"So needy. Like father, like daughter."

Makkachin licks his palm, her tail thumping lazily in agreement. Yuuri's smile fades as he finally brings himself to look at where her left eye should have been. He can see scarring around it, slashes like claws. A dog fight? That's something he'll have to ask Viktor about someday.

But that would require actually speaking to Viktor. Which he can never do again after last night. His cheeks flush in embarrassment as he buries his face in his hands. God, he had made such an ass out of himself. And after all Viktor's efforts to make his birthday special. He had ruined it completely. 

He tries to grasp at reasons why. Champagne much stronger than he'd been expecting, sure. But he hadn't blacked out at all. He'd been having a great time talking to Viktor. Just the two of them talking. Such a simple thing, and it had made him so happy. Why had he made such a stupid and impulsive move? Shouldn't he have better self control by now?

Being here had made him panic. Being in this city. Being in this apartment. Being with Viktor. He feels that same panic start to creep up on him now, and he braces himself for the attack.

Makkachin rises suddenly, stretching and hopping off the bed. Yuuri hears her nails skitter across the floor as she bounds down the hall towards the master bedroom. Had Viktor called her? Yuuri hadn't heard anything. 

He tries to listen harder. A voice? Something. Something calling. Something frightened? Something that needs him. Now.

He's on his feet and in front of the master bedroom in seconds. The doors are ajar, and Yuuri steps inside cautiously, his heart pounding wildly for reasons he can't explain. He pauses to listen again, but he doesn't hear a voice anymore. Just quick and hitching breaths, just the rustle of twisted bed sheets, just Makkachin's soft whining. 

When Yuuri sees Viktor's pale and twitching form, his mind goes blank. Skin almost as white as the pristine sheets, both seemingly glowing in the light of the high afternoon sun. The bed is very low, the windows very high, and as Yuuri sinks into the soft mattress, he feels like he's floating among the clouds just right outside. So white. So soft.

Viktor has never looked more like a ghost than he does now, and Yuuri wants nothing more than to breathe life back into him. He's curled up, sheets thrown half off of him, his body tense and trembling. Wild silver hair obscures his face, and when Yuuri gently brushes it aside, he sees the tears streaking down Viktor's cheeks. But he had already known they were there. He can smell them.

His limbs seem to move on their own, his arms steady as they encircle the thing they want to protect. Yuuri pulls Viktor close, pressing his face into his hair and inhaling deeply. He only smells of soap, something flowery that makes Yuuri's nose twitch. He hopes he's not about to sneeze on Viktor's head and ruin the moment.

Viktor's shaking subsides at Yuuri's touch, and his breathing slows into a rhythm so soothing that Yuuri feels his eyelids start to droop. Viktor is so warm. Warm and soft. A body much larger and more muscular than his own, but with skin still so soft to the touch. Yuuri starts slightly as he feels strong arms reflexively wrap around him, drawing him in tight. Yuuri's now caught in a steel trap that's so exhilarating that his heart begins to beat faster. If he had been standing, he might have swooned.

He could crush me, Yuuri thinks with a shaky exhale. Viktor stirs, drawing back and making small and soft noises that take all images of crushing out of Yuuri's mind, replacing them with something warm and fuzzy. No, this man couldn't hurt anyone. Not with those big and sleepy blue eyes. Viktor blinks at him slowly, a small smile starting to form on his lips.

"Did you dream of her, too?"

Yuuri's heart skips a beat, his eyes widening as he stares down at Viktor in shock. Who? What? _Dream?_ Yuuri can't even remember his dream, assuming he had even had one. His dumbstruck look is apparently lost on Viktor, who only yawns hugely and burrows back into the warmth of Yuuri's chest. Yuuri pauses awkwardly, waiting to see if Viktor will explain what he'd just said. But all he gets is a soft sigh that evens out into steady breathing.

"Hey," he murmurs, making no real effort to rouse him, "it's time to wake up, Viktor."

"Mmm," Viktor mumbles into his chest. It sends a strange vibration through him, making him shiver. He feels it again, a very low and very long vibration, and for a moment he's puzzled. Both he and Viktor realize that he's purring at the same time.

Viktor draws back again, his eyes shining bright. "Yuuri! You're purring? For _me?_ "

"I -- I mean, u-um," Yuuri stutters, his voice warbling slightly through the low rumbling in his chest. He hadn't been expecting this to happen. But the bed is so soft, the sunlight so warm, the sky above so blue. And Viktor is all of those things in one. Yuuri can't help but bask in a sort of lazy contentment as he holds him. Viktor seems to feel the same way, giving him a look of awed satisfaction.

"Yuuri. I never thought I'd get to wake up next to you like this."

"Y-yeah, well," Yuuri mumbles, looking away, "I just had the weirdest feeling. Like... it felt like you were calling out to me."

Yuuri doesn't have to see Viktor's face to know how soft the look he's giving him is. He can hear it in his voice.

"I'm always calling out to you, Yuuri."

Yuuri buries his face in Viktor's hair to smother the flames bursting to life in his cheeks. _God,_ why does he say stuff like that? It's not _fair._

"I'm sorry," Yuuri says suddenly, last night's memories crashing forward in an unexpected and unwanted rush, "I should have stayed in my own bed, I didn't mean to just... show up. I hope I didn't scare you. I hope this isn't weird. Or creepy."

Viktor only shakes his head slowly, arms braced around him as though afraid that he'd bolt for the doors. "Don't apologize. I'm so happy that you're here, and no, it's not weird. There's nothing you could ever do that would scare me, Yuuri."

"Except drunkenly force myself on you," Yuuri says quietly, his face burning hotter in embarrassment. How can Viktor forgive him so easily?

Viktor's head moves from underneath Yuuri's face as he draws back again to look at him, and Yuuri forces himself to look back. Viktor's expression is of genuine concern, and it seems to put Yuuri at ease. But only a little.

"That wasn't your fault, Yuuri. I should have realized that you were drinking too much." He pauses, a look of guilt crossing his face. "Or maybe I did realize. Maybe I was selfish. I wanted you to be comfortable around me. I wanted you to smile. I wanted to hear your laughter."

"You did," Yuuri says softly. "You got to hear it."

"Yes," Viktor says, "I got what I wanted. Isn't that selfish? All I've done since we met is try to think of ways to get you to trust me. Drinking was a stupid idea. A selfish one."

Yuuri stares in disbelief, heart breaking for him. Viktor thinks that wanting to see him happy was selfish? Granted, his methods had been misguided, but in the end, Viktor wanted Yuuri to be comfortable and content around him. Even if it _was_ for his own satisfaction, was it really so bad? Yuuri can think of a thousand things he himself had done that had been worse.

"I'm sorry that things got out of hand," Viktor continues. "I didn't want that to happen. I never want that to happen. Not again."

"Again?" Yuuri frowns at him, growing slightly alarmed at the distressed tone in his voice. It builds as he starts to speak in a jumbled rush.

"Once I realized just how drunk you were, I... I felt awful. I felt scared. I didn't want you to forget our time together. I don't ever want you to forget me again. I thought -- I mean, what if we had Bonded, and you forgot -- no, never mind, I'm sorry. I'm only thinking of myself. I wasn't disappointed in you last night, Yuuri, I was disappointed in myself."

Yuuri pulls him closer, suddenly feeling very protective. Against what? Himself? His thoughts, he decides. He'll protect Viktor from his bad thoughts. He'll make him see what's real. He keeps his tone light and gentle, feeling Viktor start to physically relax in his arms.

"I won't ever forget you, Viktor, you don't need to worry about that. And I don't think you're selfish for wanting me to be more..." he trails off, trying to think of the right word. "Open?"

"But I can't make that happen, Yuuri. I see that now. I don't want you to be anything but yourself at your own pace. And when you open up to me, I promise to meet you where you are."

You've already been doing that, Yuuri thinks sadly, brushing aside Viktor's hair gently. There's so much more I could do for you. Why am I like this?

This shouldn't be so hard. He's in a lavish bed in a luxurious room in a ridiculously extravagant penthouse, cuddled into the world's most handsome and desired Omega who happens to be madly in love with him.

There, he thinks. That right there. Stop doing that. Stop treating him like a concept. This is Viktor. Just Viktor.

Yuuri runs his fingers through Viktor's long hair, willing his voice and hands steady. "Thank you, Viktor. For all of this, I mean. This is the best birthday I've ever had."

Viktor perks up at this, looking incredibly proud. "Really? Well, there's a lot more where that came from! We can do _so_ much today, Yuuri, you haven't even seen the park --"

"I think," Yuuri cuts in quickly, sensing the oncoming rambling, "I'd like to stay in bed for a little while. I'm having a good time right now, I promise."

Viktor quiets at this, but Yuuri still senses his excitement buzzing beneath the surface. "We can stay here as long as you want, Yuuri. Well, until your next class, anyway," he adds with a teasing smile. "No skipping!"

Yuuri huffs at him. "Alright, fine. I'd rather be here, though."

"When's the next time you're in the music wing?" Viktor asks abruptly. Yuuri blinks at him in surprise.

"I. Uh. Well, tomorrow, I guess?" He looks away nervously under Viktor's intense gaze. What the hell is this, all of a sudden?

"You never really talk to me about your playing. Why?"

Yuuri isn't in the mood for a lecture, but he scrambles for excuses anyway. "I, um, I just haven't really been feeling... inspired?"

Viktor levels him with a long look, his expression completely unreadable. Yuuri squirms awkwardly until he finally breaks the uncomfortable silence.

"You once told me that I inspired you to start playing. So why have you stopped now that I'm here?"

"I don't know," Yuuri says quietly, "but can we please not talk about this right now?"

"Sure," Viktor says, his tone still very stern, "but as soon as we get back to campus tomorrow, I'm taking you to the practice rooms and teaching you myself."

Yuuri wants to be indignant, to bristle, to be annoyed at Viktor's insistence and his vaguely patronizing tone. But he can't. Not on his birthday weekend. Not with Viktor so close to him. He's warm and he's floating and he can barely grumble a reluctant agreement before he loses himself once again in the wild mass of Viktor's hair. He inhales deeply, taking in a mixture of scents that unfortunately doesn't include the one he wants to smell the most. Viktor seems to sense this, surprising Yuuri with a light laugh and pulling away from him again.

"You know, we should probably try getting you used to it. My scent, I mean. If you want it that badly, you'll have to learn to control yourself."

"It's hard to control myself when it comes to you," Yuuri says without thinking. He's amazed when Viktor blushes deeply. Had he really said something so smooth? He's about to regret it, because Viktor suddenly looks sultry, a small smirk forming on his lips as he presses Yuuri's own with his finger.

"Well, then. I guess you'll just have to try really, really, _really_ hard, hmmm?"

Before Yuuri can answer, the slightest bit of Viktor's scent reaches him. It's sweet, so very sweet, and faint enough not to cloud his mind. He closes his eyes and takes a deep and shuddering breath. God, yes, _so good_. He wants more, but he tells himself to relax. Slow, easy. Calm. Deep breaths.

He feels Viktor press into him further, feels his smooth cheek against his neck. Viktor starts to nuzzle him very slowly, and after a few moments, Yuuri realizes that he's scenting him. He can feel it sink deep into his skin, something not-quite-there but somehow still tangible. The more Viktor rubs, pressing forward to slide his neck against his, the more he feels it. The more he smells him.

Yuuri lets out a low groan, and Viktor pauses, his hands stopping their idle tracing of the skin underneath his shirt. His fingers are warm against his waist and his breath is warm against his tingling neck.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes," Yuuri says quickly, not wanting him to stop. But he does, and Yuuri has to hold in another groan as he pulls away. Viktor's eyes are shining brightly in the sunlight. So blue. So beautiful. Yuuri's gaze trails down to Viktor's neck. So soft. So beautiful. He wants to ask if he can nuzzle him, if he can mark him with his scent in return.

Instead, he ruins the moment completely.

"Do you hate Alphas?"

There's a silence so still that Yuuri is half convinced that he's gone deaf, because Viktor's lips seem to move without a sound. They're trembling, Yuuri realizes. Viktor's eyes are enormous with shock, the light in them utterly snuffed out.

They stare at one another. Waiting.

"What?" Viktor asks softly, though Yuuri knows he'd understood exactly what he'd said. 

"I, uh," Yuuri starts, the stupidity of what he'd said sinking in, "I mean, I'm sorry, I was gonna ask if I could maybe -- I mean, if you wanted my scent on you, except, um, I remembered that you hated -- I mean, do you? Hate us?" he finishes weakly, becoming a shaking mess under Viktor's blank stare.

"Did Yuri say that? He's always liked me the least."

"Yes," Yuuri says slowly, sensing answers coming but knowing that he isn't ready to face them. But there's no way to truly brace himself, so he waits, sick with anticipation. Viktor's trembling lips part again.

"I... distrust them. Strongly. But you're different," he adds quickly, emotion rushing back into his voice. "I trust you, Yuuri, I promise. You're not like them."

"Them?" Yuuri shakes his head. This is starting to sound like their old conversations in Yuuri's dorm. Cryptic and unhelpful. "Viktor. If what we have is going to work, I need real answers. I need honesty."

Viktor looks like he's having an internal struggle, but he tries to mask it under another blank stare. "I have a bad history with Alphas. And so I distrust them. That's all, really. I don't really like to talk about it. I'm sorry."

Yuuri swallows hard and nods. Right. If Viktor isn't about to force Yuuri to open up, Yuuri shouldn't do it to him, either. There's plenty of time for us to get the hang of this, he thinks as he runs his fingers through Viktor's hair. Yes. Plenty of time for just the both of them. The thought fills his stomach with butterflies. Or maybe he's just nauseous.

"Don't be sorry. I shouldn't have -- I mean, I wanted to know more about you. I probably should have started with something more simple, like your favorite color or whatever crap new couples ask each other."

Viktor laughs in surprise, leaning into Yuuri's touch as his fingers stray towards his cheek. The skittish air that had been hanging around him vanishes, leaving the bed somehow lighter, as though a heavy burden had excused itself and left. The light returns to Viktor's eyes as the clouds part for their rays, and his smile is just as bright and warm.

"Gold," he whispers. It takes Yuuri longer than it should have to realize what he's talking about. "My favorite color is gold. Gold like the sun. Gold like our rings. Like my collar. Like your eyes in the light." He takes Yuuri's hand gently in his own, pressing a soft kiss to the palm. "Zolotse. My gold."

Yuuri's heart soars high among the clouds that surround them, and it stays there, suspended midair. Frozen in time. The two of them are here, at home within the afternoon sky, the bed sheets their clouds, and Yuuri's eyes are the sun. He can see Viktor basking in their heat, flourishing like a blossoming flower. Hungry for that warmth, that life. Yuuri's fingers continue their travel along Viktor's face, and he keeps his touch light and careful as he presses against the soft skin. He smooths the pad of his thumb along the dimple under his eye, and although he's being as tender as possible, Viktor scowls at him.

"Hey," he says, nearly pouting, "I'm sensitive about those, you know."

Yuuri grins at him, his thumb now brushing near his lips. "Really? How come?" He pauses, cocking his head a bit. "How old are you, anyway?"

Viktor gives him an exasperated look, but Yuuri sees the smile twitching beneath what is most definitely now a pout. "You're full of tactless questions today, aren't you? Well, if you _must_ know, I'm twenty-five. Turning twenty-six soon, actually."

"Oh?" Yuuri's curiosity skyrockets immediately. "When?" He hopes his voice doesn't betray his racing heart, because his mind is suddenly flooding with ideas on how to treat Viktor on his birthday the way he had so graciously treated him on his. Well, maybe not _exactly_ the same way. Yuuri doesn't have hundreds of thousands of dollars to spoil him with. He suddenly realizes that he really wishes that he did. He wants to spoil Viktor. He wants to make him happy.

Viktor just sort of shrugs. "Very soon. Christmas."

"Yeah?" Yuuri says with a grin. "So, does that mean double presents?"

The corner of Viktor's mouth does something strange as he shrugs again, and Yuuri decides to change the subject before he ends up accidentally unearthing another can of worms.

"I'll take you somewhere. I mean it!" Viktor is giving him a teasing look, but Yuuri is insistent. "I'm not sure where yet, but it'll be special. I promise."

"Sure," Viktor murmurs, bringing his hands up to Yuuri's face to caress it lightly, letting his fingers work their way back towards his hair. "You can put it on Yakov's card. I'll tell him it's for a good cause."

Yuuri's laugh melts into a soft sigh as Viktor starts to stroke his hair, and when Viktor starts to scratch him behind the ears, he groans low again in satisfaction. His own fingers are still against Viktor's face, and he brushes them against soft and pink lips. Viktor's eyes start to droop with sleep, but they fly back open at Yuuri's words.

"Blue."

"What?"

"My favorite color," Yuuri explains, face burning. "That's what I was gonna say, anyway, but I realized it's because of your eyes, and you already used that line. So. Uh. Sorry, I sound like an idiot."

Viktor tries very hard to keep a straight face, but Yuuri sees through it immediately. "Yuuri," he says sternly, "first you steal my piano piece, then you steal my bad pick-up line? What's next?"

"Your heart?" Yuuri attempts, and Viktor's bark of laughter is both startling and beautiful. Yuuri feels himself start to snicker in response, but he tries to hold it together. "Sorry, that was bad!"

"Yes!" Viktor nearly cries, tangling his fingers in Yuuri's feathery hair and giggling madly. "Yes, absolutely! That's the kind of garbage _I'd_ say, Yuuri, _honestly."_

Viktor has never looked more alive, more carefree than he does now. Yuuri wonders if he himself looks the same, because he definitely feels that way. He'd never once thought that he'd ever be in bed with Viktor Nikiforov, the two of them cackling like idiots over shitty romantic cliches, their hands so entangled in each other that there's no beginning, no end, no separation. Just them. Their world.

"This is easy," Yuuri says suddenly, realization striking him like the lightning that flashes in Viktor's eyes. Blue skies that are alive, shimmering behind wisps of silver clouds, so fine and long, lashes that flutter at him like the breeze.

"What is?" Viktor asks him with a lazy grin.

"Loving you," Yuuri says simply, his voice hushed, laughter fading into quiet content. "Loving you is easy."

Viktor's eyes dart back and forth between Yuuri's, searching until he finds an answer that seems to satisfy him. His smile is the most gentle Yuuri has ever seen it, and it seems almost as if he's smiling to himself, amazed at his own luck. The secret and quiet smile of someone counting their blessings. Yuuri brings him closer, guiding his face into the crook of his shoulder. He cautiously presses their necks together. Waiting. 

Viktor starts to purr, a high pitched and loud thrum that Yuuri can feel reverberate through his own body as he slowly starts to nuzzle him. He rubs his neck against him, feeling his scent seep into him like the heat radiating off his body. Viktor's skin seems to tingle, or maybe it's just the vibrating of his throat. Yuuri's own vibrations grow to match it, and his low and deep purring rumbles beneath Viktor's light and sweet trill.

They stay like this for some time. Forever, it seems. Yuuri grows tired of nuzzling, stifling a yawn against Viktor's scent-drenched skin. Slow and soft breathing tells him that he must have fallen asleep. Yuuri buries into him carefully, adjusting himself until their pieces fit like destiny -- safe and unbreakable.

He closes his eyes and dreams of fields of snow.

But he doesn't feel winter's bite until he wakes up cold and alone. It takes him a moment to realize that Viktor is gone, and by the time he registers that there's no warm body held against his own, he's already struggling to sit up, dazed and confused and definitely worried.

He rubs at his eyes for a few seconds before realizing that his vision is hazy because his glasses aren't on. He hadn't remembered taking them off, and as he squints around for them, he thinks he spots them on the nightstand. Yes, there they are. He pauses, spotting something else familiar beside them. His phone? Had he brought that with him?

He's got text notifications. Something tells him that he should check them before searching for Viktor. And he's glad that he does.

_Good morning, sleeping beauty!!!_

Yuuri glances out the window. It doesn't even look like evening yet. They couldn't have napped for more than a couple of hours.

_This weekend has been perfect, Yuuri, and I'm so happy that I got to spend it with you. But I'm afraid we'll have to cut things a little short, because I have some bad news._

Yuuri has no idea what to expect, but it isn't what he reads next.

_I woke up in heat. Crazy, right? Of all the times and places!_

Yuuri gapes at his phone.

_This is really inconvenient for soooo many reasons. I'm sure you understand! I think it's best if you head back home, and I'll meet you there when this is over. Yakov will accompany you all the way back to Detroit. I'll miss you lots!_

The texts go on, most of them involving hearts and kissy emojis, and Yuuri continues to stare at his screen like an idiot. Viktor? In heat? His mind is already sinking deep into the gutter a hundred floors below.

Viktor, waking suddenly in Yuuri's arms, nostrils filled deeply with his scent, finding that his cock is hard and his thighs are wet. How the hell had Yuuri slept through that? How had he slept through Viktor's skin on fire, Yuuri's own scent soaked through it like oil, Viktor's heat setting his body ablaze? How had Viktor been able to pry himself off of Yuuri's sleeping form? Had every bit of skin-on-skin been sweet torture? He can imagine Viktor moaning and quivering as he tried to wiggle out of bed, gasping at the friction between them. 

Yuuri's mind is busy doing terrible things, mostly involving a touch-starved Viktor desperately rubbing himself all over him in his sleep, when it hits him that the air is a little too still. Too quiet. He can still sense Viktor, but there's an almost-silence across their Bond that's unsettling. 

He's hiding, Yuuri realizes. He's waiting for me to leave. He knows we can't see each other. Not like this. 

Yuuri cocks his head, listening, and what he'd been ignoring as vague background noise gradually comes to his attention. A shower running. Viktor must be in there, in the master bathroom. Waiting. 

Waiting for me? Yuuri wonders, very clearly letting his dick take the reins of his struggling brain. Viktor must be waiting in the shower, standing beneath the running water. Waiting. Water so hot that it matches the stinging in his veins. Water so hot that the room is filled with steam, leaving him heavy and aching. Yes, heavy like his long hair, soaked and streaming -- silver swirls plastered to pale and smooth skin, silver swirls floating and caressing him, steam, smoking wisps of silver covering his --

Yuuri realizes that he's standing directly in front of the master bathroom door. He hasn't recalled moving at all. He backs away quickly, shaking his head and trying to come to his senses. No, it's time to leave.

He rushes to gather his things, taking a moment to glance at the now tidy pile of bags and boxes full of Viktor's gifts to him. He'll have to leave it for now. He'd only brought his small duffel bag, and it doesn't have room for everything. As he grabs up his bag, he pauses, noticing Viktor's beside it. Makkachin is nosing at it curiously. It's open.

Yuuri makes direct eye contact with the dreaded dildo for far too long, muttering a shaky _oh, god_ as he hurries out the door and onto the elevator.

He finds Yakov waiting in the lobby, and he follows him outside to where the car is just being driven up by the valet. To his immense relief, Yakov drives like a normal human, even despite the hellish traffic around him. The ride is a bit awkward, as Yuuri isn't exactly great at small talk, and Yakov doesn't seem to offer much in the way of casual conversation. Yuuri's currently sitting on about a hundred questions about Viktor's past, but all he can do is cautiously comment on the weather.

Another wave of relief hits him as Yakov turns to eye him for a moment at a red light. He gives him a somewhat annoyed look before turning back to glare ahead.

"You're wanting to ask me about that damned bastard, aren't you? Well, go ahead. I'm waiting." He says this gruffly, but with a strange sort of kindness beneath it. Yuuri takes this as a somewhat good sign.

But Yuuri's not really sure where to start. He chews his lip for a moment, scrambling for something before Yakov grows impatient and changes his mind.

"Um. Okay, well... how did you meet him?"

"I was hired as one of his tutors when he was a child. Don't ask what we taught him. It'd be easier to list what we didn't teach him. The boy is talented. A little _too_ talented."

"You make that sound like it's a bad thing."

Yakov's smile isn't quite right. "The worst thing a child can do is show skill and wisdom far beyond their years. Especially to a wealthy family. I've had too many students like that. But Viktor surpassed them all. Music, dance, art, theatre -- the boy's a master of all trades."

"A wealthy family?" Yuuri repeats, trying to latch onto the only thing that makes sense.

"Disgustingly wealthy. Old blood, old money. Not always clean money, but that never mattered, because they were perfect. A perfect and wealthy couple with their perfect and wealthy son." He sneers, rounding a turn a little too sharply.

"Oh," Yuuri says after releasing his death grip on the dashboard, suddenly remembering something. "Viktor said you hated his family. Why?"

Yakov is quiet for a moment, and Yuuri realizes that they're nearly at the airport already. He hopes their conversation won't end here. He doesn't want to spend a two hour flight completely in the dark, stuck with more questions than he'd started out with. 

Their discussion picks up again as soon as they board the private jet. Yuuri settles in his seat wearily, and Yakov turns to him as if they'd never stopped speaking.

"It's hard to truly hate people whose only crime was their own ignorance. I'd say that I resented them. Deeply. A child is a person, a human being. Not a doll. Not a puppet. And definitely," he adds, his lip curling in a snarl, and if Yuuri hadn't already known he was a Beta, he would have expected to see fangs, "not a fucking _prize_."

There's a very long and very uncomfortable pause during which Yuuri wrestles his anxiety firmly to the ground before it can stop him from asking his next question.

"A prize for Alphas?"

Yakov's gaze is fixed on the window beside him, watching as the jet begins to take off. Yuuri can't see his face, but his tone paints a grisly picture.

"Fucking _animals_. Ought to be put down."

Put down.

Yuuri stares down at his hands, flexing his fingers. His nails gleam in the overhead lights, thick and sharp. He has to fight the strong urge to scratch at his chest scruff nervously.

Put down?

The words reverberate throughout his mind the rest of the flight, ringing in the empty silence between them.

Once they land, Yakov gives him a strange look when he quietly asks to ride back to campus in a different cab, but doesn't comment on it. Yuuri's expecting another long and awkward silence, with nothing but the same words -- _put down, put down, put down_ \-- hanging thickly and ominously in the air between them. But Yakov surprises him by pulling him aside once they exit the airport to wait outside.

"I don't know what either of you are playing at here. I can't even pretend to understand. But I know Viktor more than anyone else in the world. I know his bullshit. I know what he'll do to get what he wants."

None of this is helping Yuuri keep his stomach out of his throat, but he says nothing, clenching his jaw and looking away. What the hell is any of that supposed to mean? Is Yakov trying to scare him? Why?

"But," Yakov continues suddenly, and there's something in his voice that has Yuuri's attention snapping back to him. He sounds almost reluctantly impressed. "Well. Dunno what the hell kind of spell you've put on him, boy, but I've never seen him like this before. When the two of you didn't come back down yesterday, I assumed the worst. I assumed he'd move on after he was done with you. But here you are. Being personally escorted, like some sort of precious fucking cargo." He shakes his head in disbelief. "It's not like Viktor to risk exposure and find someone he wants to protect. You're an odd one, Katsuki. But maybe that's a good thing."

Yuuri nods absently, not entirely sure he'd heard him right. Yakov had thought that Viktor would move on from him after last night? But now he thinks that Viktor considers him as something precious, something to be taken care of? It makes him flush and look away again, and despite his stomach still attempting to claw its way out of him, he finds that he has a hard time keeping a small smile off his face as Yakov leads him to the cab pulling up in front of them.

"Does this mean I have your approval, dedushka?"

Yakov nearly shoves him into his seat, growling at him to keep his head low and keep out of trouble. The way he says it makes Yuuri's grin falter a bit. He shakes it off, assuming that it's just him taking his new assignment as Yuuri's guardian way too seriously. This man must be some sort of mobster bodyguard, and Yuuri refuses to believe otherwise.

"Yakov," he calls out to him before he shuts the cab door, "will Viktor be alright on his own?"

Yakov's smile is actually a bit fond this time, though he snorts loudly. "Yeah, that mutt won't let a damn soul near him. He'll be just fine."

Yuuri suddenly feels an enormous rush of gratitude for Makkachin, and breathes a little easier knowing that Viktor is in good paws.

His room is empty when he walks in, and something about that is unsettling. Phichit's absence isn't out of the ordinary. He's got his own life, obviously. But as Yuuri gazes at the far end of the room, the sight of Viktor's nest, cold and unoccupied, makes his gut wrench. He approaches and settles onto it carefully, not wanting to disturb the mess. Although it seems like a disaster of cushions and clothing, Yuuri knows that Viktor has some sort of method to his madness. Omegas are very particular about their nests.

His thoughts come to a halt, and he frowns as he tries to recall the details of the master bedroom in Viktor's apartment. The bed. It had been only that. Just a bed. Not a nest. There had been nothing cozy about it, nothing personal and sacred. But how long had Viktor owned that bed? Ages longer than this spare bed in Yuuri's dorm. It's so much smaller and less impressive compared to the grand king in Viktor's penthouse, but this is the bed he'd decided to nest in. This is the room he had decided to call 'home.'

That troublesome smile creeps its way back onto Yuuri's face, and despite some lingering embarrassment, he lets it. He's slowly learning to accept whatever happiness comes his way, no matter how awkward or apprehensive he feels about it. He reaches for the onigiri pillow, sort of surprised that either of them had left it behind. He squeezes it gently, burrowing his face into it and inhaling Viktor's faint scent. It doesn't drive him mad -- at least, not the way it had before. That must be a good thing. He wonders if Viktor has the same thought whenever he smells Yuuri's scent on it, and suddenly something he'd once said comes to mind.

 _I feel a lot better when I can smell you._  

He hadn't needed the plush this weekend. He'd had Yuuri with him. That had been all he'd needed to feel better. Of course, that brings the implication that Viktor had been expecting to have his scent on him up close and personal, and Yuuri blushes hard at this. Things hadn't exactly gone the way either of them had wanted them to, but they had made some sort of progress. Yuuri's been worrying that they hadn't been getting anywhere, but Viktor seems confident of just the opposite.

And Viktor had been prepared for _something_ , at least, Yuuri thinks wryly, remembering what he'd seen spilling out of his bag. Does he just take that stuff with him everywhere? Had he suspected that his heat might come? Yuuri knows he can sometimes feel his rut coming on a few days in advance.

But then, doesn't that mean that Viktor had expected that he'd be alone? That he'd have no one else to help relieve him? How long had he been preparing for the moment he'd have to flee when his heat came along? Yuuri frets, not sure if Viktor retreating with his toys means that he still doesn't trust any Alpha near him. Or maybe he's just respecting their decision to take things slow. Because things would certainly kick into high gear if Yuuri had been around to witness Viktor's heat. He'd seen it once before -- that night at the club, the one he can't remember -- and he has no idea how he'll react when faced with it now. The tortured mental images Yuuri had kept at bay come back to haunt him, and he shudders.

Is Viktor still hiding in the bathroom? Yuuri wants to text him, but he has a feeling that he's very busy. He must have come out to grab his bag, Yuuri is sure of that. How long had he waited before starting? What is he using? And is he still going?

Yuuri closes his eyes and takes a shaking breath. Relax. Don't get all worked up. Viktor is taking care of himself, and despite how much Yuuri misses him already, he'll just have to wait until he returns. He'll have to wait for his heat to pass. He'll have to wait until Viktor is spent, satisfied, completely and utterly drained.

He tries to push these thoughts away as he heads to the bathroom, but they linger stubbornly. God, he wants to talk to Viktor. He wants to hear his voice, deep and smooth and thick with an emotion that always drives Yuuri wild. Yuuri wants to see him, his dazzling smile and his dazzling eyes fixed on him. Only him.

"Viktor," he says softly, and the air around him seems to shiver in response. But no, that must be his imagination.

He catches sight of himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door as he pulls off his shirt. His eyes sweep down his own body, making their way down lean muscle and tufts of scruff. He scratches at his chest absently as his eyes pause at the waistband of his jeans. They suddenly seem a little too tight. The fingers scraping against his chest are much softer now as they glide down to undo his button and zipper, and both hands slide his pants down and off smoothly. He eyes his briefs now, and isn't exactly surprised to see himself growing hard. He isn't surprised, because he's still thinking of Viktor. He's always thinking of Viktor.

He's stepping out of his briefs before he even fully realizes it, his fingers already running lightly over his cock. He wishes they were Viktor's fingers, slender and long. They wrap around him slowly, and Yuuri breathes sharply as he starts to stroke himself.

"Viktor," he whispers, and the tingling in the back of his skull definitely isn't just his imagination anymore. It's very faint and very distant, hovering on the edges of his consciousness, and Yuuri wants it closer. He wants it inside him.

Am I calling out to him? Yuuri wonders, recalling times when Viktor seemed to have thought so. He isn't sure if he'd ever done so purposely. Or if he knows how to. But he wants to. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries to open his mind. Or his heart. Or whatever the hell will get Viktor to realize that he's being invited in. Invited in, where? Yuuri has no idea. But he'd like to find out.

He feels it a lot sooner than he'd expected, a sharp jolt in his skull that sends shock waves throughout his body. Something warm and familiar.

When he opens his eyes, his knees nearly give way. The eyes that stare back at him in the mirror aren't his own. Not entirely. There's something lurking behind them, and when Yuuri's gaze runs along his own body again, he feels a stronger appreciation for his own form. Yes, someone appreciates him _very_ much.

"Viktor," he says slowly, feeling a bit awkward. Whispering the name to himself is one thing. Trying to speak to someone telepathically across hundreds of miles is another. "Viktor. Can you hear me?"

He swears he can hear something like a soft sigh in his ear, and a warmth envelopes him that immediately puts him at ease. His eyes rake over his reflection in the mirror a little more deliberately.

"Can you see me?"

The warmth becomes a heat so sudden that he nearly stumbles in surprise. A heat. Viktor's heat.

Yuuri approaches the mirror slowly, close enough to press one hand against the door as his other hand grips himself tighter. He feels a thrum of anticipation. A hunger. A desperation that grows, consuming him, and his eyes are drawn down, far down, unable to look away as he thumbs the head of his cock.

He wants it, Yuuri thinks. He wants it _badly_. Yuuri feels something come over him, something wicked and teasing.

"Yeah? You want this dick?" he whispers, his cheeks burning. "If you're a good boy, you can have it."

The words have barely left his lips before he feels a stinging stab so sharp that his knees actually do give way now, and he collapses to the floor, his thighs already shaking and his chest heaving hard. His eyes still haven't left his cock. They haven't left the soft black scruff trailing from his bellybutton to his crotch. They haven't left his balls, tight and heavy between his legs. They haven't left his thick shaft, or the head already dribbling, and he watches his fingers move deftly, smearing the drops slowly until his cock glistens. He starts to drool as he watches, almost as if it isn't his. It's so big, so thick, absolutely _massive_ in his hand, and he needs it inside of him. Viktor needs it inside of him. _Now._

He feels Viktor's frenzied desperation across their Bond, but it isn't enough. He wants to see it. But how? Yuuri has never experienced seeing through Viktor's eyes. That fateful night at the club had been a one-sided affair, and if he had been able to perform that trick, he clearly couldn't remember. How can he see Viktor now?

Yuuri feels something try to guide him, but it isn't quite strong enough. He thinks he can see a flicker of something across his vision, but it doesn't remain for very long. Wisps of silver. Steam? Viktor must be in the shower again. Has he been there this entire time? Has he been taking any breaks? Yuuri's worry is cut short by a surge of pleasure, and he realizes that he's jerking himself faster now, his hand becoming a blur in the mirror. His eyes meet his own, and something flickers again.

This time, he sees the hazy outline of a room. The light of the setting sun slants through an enormous window in front of him, the glare playing across foggy glass walls. Walls? A shower. A shower enclosed in glass, the steam layering thickly over the panes. The view fades in and out, bobbing up and down unsteadily. It makes it hard to focus, and Yuuri feels his head swimming, his body so heavy that it's almost drowsy. He's been here for so long. His body has been aching and pulsing for hours, his limbs feel weak and his heart won't stop pounding. But he can't stop. It hurts. It hurts so _good._

Yuuri shivers, feeling a delicious sensation settle over him. Is he feeling what Viktor is feeling? His vision wavers again, and he fights to concentrate. He's finally starting to see things through Viktor's eyes, and he can't let this new thing slip away.

A hand raises to wipe at the steamed glass, and Yuuri jumps slightly at the sight of blue eyes staring back at him. They're lidded very heavily, thickly glazed with a sort of exhausted and mindless lust. But they're begging for more.

"Viktor," Yuuri pants, pumping his cock faster, and his breathy moans are lost in the sound of something crying out in pleasure. His vision is flicking back and forth between himself in the mirror -- on his knees, his fingers working his cock, his jaw slack and drooling thickly -- and those blue eyes. Those blue eyes that struggle not to roll back. Yuuri urges them not to, urges them out of the darkness. He wants to see. He wants to see everything.

"Don't ever take your eyes off of me, Viktor."

Viktor snaps out of it, wiping at the glass again, and this time his eyes roam over his faint reflection in the glass. It isn't exactly clear to Yuuri's wavering vision, especially with the amount of steam, but Yuuri sees the body he dreams of, the slender and pale throat straining beneath a tightened black and gold collar, the broad shoulders thrown back, chest and abs tight, hips rolling rhythmically, hypnotically. Yuuri watches hungrily as his cock bounces -- so pretty, so pink, so much smaller than his own -- before he realizes that he's bouncing along with it, moving up and down over and over, body clenched painfully tight around something hard and huge.

The dildo, Yuuri realizes. It must be suctioned to the floor. And Viktor is riding it fast and hard. The thought makes Yuuri growl low and harsh in his throat, a very stupid pang of jealously hitting him. He gives his cock a particularly vicious tug, and a strangled cry echoes along with his own. He pauses briefly, frowning. What was that?

A panicked and mad desperation echoes back to him, begging him frantically for something. Yuuri squeezes his cock and thrusts his hips hard, and his vision nearly blacks out. Someone's eyes are rolling back. There's a sweet vibration surging through him, robbing him of his breath, and he pants hard, nails scrabbling against the door beside the mirror as he tries to keep steady. God, what was _that?_

He feels it again when he thrusts his hips, again and again, and after a while it starts to feel as though his hand were something else. Something tight and wet and hot and pulsing in time with his thrusts. He's thrown back into Viktor's body for a moment to find that there's nothing to see, but there's plenty to hear. The moans tearing from his throat are full and deep, reverberating off the glass walls, and Yuuri has to grip onto the door hard because Viktor is riding frantically, his body almost convulsing, his chest heaving with the force of his sobbing. Or is Yuuri the one sobbing?

He blinks and feels the dizzying sensation of being back in his own head, but he's even more disoriented when he realizes he's staring up at the ceiling instead of at himself in the mirror. He's flat on his back now, squirming and sweating on the cold bathroom floor. He tries to take a deep breath to steady himself, but his mouth is already open. He's screaming. His entire body is on fire and he's screaming, both hands tangled in his hair and pulling at it madly. His cock is free and throbbing to a beat that Yuuri feels in his heart, in Viktor's heart, and despite nothing and no one touching it, it's being taken with a strength that rips the air from his lungs.

His thighs quake and his toes curl as the sensation carries on mercilessly, and Yuuri's eyes roll back into Viktor's, into a darkness bursting with flashes of white, flashes of color, and suddenly he can see again -- eyes that complement the burning sky, trailing down smooth and creamy skin stretched taut over straining muscle, trailing past wet strands of silver, down and down until Viktor is looking down at his own body, his own wildly shaking body moving up and down. Strong arms move forward to brace against the tiled floor, a curtain of silver flowing down over them as Viktor lowers his head, his cries growing louder as he pounds himself down hard on Yuuri's cock.

Yes, Yuuri wants to gasp, yes, on me, _only_ me, but all he can do is moan, high shuddering sounds of pleasure that hitch into something uncontrollable as he watches Viktor grab his own cock and start to jerk it in time with his bouncing. His fingers are long and graceful, the same Yuuri has watched fly over keys endlessly, building into something that releases in a flurry of notes, in a spurt of something hot and thick, and Yuuri tastes blood in his mouth as he bites his tongue, the sound of Viktor's howling ringing in his ears as he comes. The feeling of something not-quite-there clenching and spasming around Yuuri's cock nearly knocks him out, his body seizing as he bursts, cum shooting hard and high onto himself as he lets out one final cry and flattens against the floor.

It takes him several minutes before he can even feel his face again, and he realizes that he can finally feel his hands as well. His scalp aches from where he'd been yanking at his hair, and his tongue stings where his sharp canines had sliced it. His breath comes in wheezing gasps, nearly choking him as he lies on his back staring up at the ceiling.

"Holy fucking shit," he whimpers, his voice trembling. His body is trembling even harder, little jolts running through him every so often. His cock twitches occasionally, limp and defeated. Yuuri feels limp and defeated all over. He feels like an overcooked noodle.

He groans loudly, not about anything in particular. He groans again, and a knock at the door cuts it short.

"What?" he croaks as Phichit pokes his head in.

"Are you done? I'm picking up pizza and it's your turn to pay."

Yuuri groans louder. Can life please give him a break? 

He ignores Phichit and his unreasonable pizza demands in favor of a desperately needed shower. The water is icy, just the way Yuuri needs it to be. Images of Viktor flash through his mind, but they're so muddled that Yuuri isn't sure if they're memories or if Viktor is still going. And Yuuri definitely has a feeling that Viktor will keep at it. Omegas are absolutely insatiable in heat, even more so than Alphas. They'd go until they were exhausted, passing out in the middle of their pleasure.

But Yuuri wants to talk to him. Shouldn't he? They had just had some sort of freakish soul sex, wouldn't it be rude not to call afterward? Yuuri feels like he should be reclining in his bed, a cigarette dangling from his hand and Viktor wrapped around him in sleepy and sexually fulfilled content. He doesn't even smoke. And Viktor is away, far away and out of his reach.

"So," Phichit begins sweetly when he walks back into the room, "how's the phone sex working out?"

Yuuri collapses into his chair, his head immediately hitting the desk. He groans again, and Phichit makes an impatient sound.

"Yeah, I've heard enough of your _noises,_ so --"

"You love my noises," Yuuri mumbles into the wood, not bothering to lift his head.

"I really do," Phichit admits cheerfully. "I keep telling you that you can making a living off of them, honestly. People would pay good money."

Yuuri feels a weight press against him, warm and familiar and instantly soothing. He lifts his head and sits back, allowing Phichit to rest his head on his shoulder from behind and wrap his arms around him.

"So? Where's Loverboy? How was your birthday? Did you get wasted? Do you have pictures?"

Yuuri is quiet for a moment, thinking on all that had happened. To his own surprise, he laughs suddenly. 

"You know what? It was perfect." Despite everything, they had learned from their mistakes, and Yuuri feels like he knows Viktor a bit better now. And that had been worth it all.

"But no _pictures_ ," Phichit huffs, snatching up Yuuri's wallet and heading for the door.

"Next time," Yuuri promises, stretching and yawning. He's so drained, so exhausted. He needs a nap. Or a coma. Whichever is more convenient.

He glances between his bed and Viktor's nest for a moment. Something about the latter is so inviting, and he sinks into the soft cushions wearily, melting into the spot that Viktor had lain in so often.

Viktor. What is he doing now? Yuuri fishes his phone out of his pocket only to find no messages waiting for him. He frets nervously for a few moments before he finally decides to stop being a wimp.

_Hi._

Too serious. Yuuri backspaces quickly.

_Hey!!_

Better?

_Is everything okay?_

He hardly has time to be mortified at his double texting before his phone tries to vibrate out of his hand.

_Yuuri!!!_

_Everything is okay! More than okay!! You were sooooo amazing, Yuuri~_

_I miss you!_

Yuuriwatchesthe oncoming heart emoji stream trickle down his screen for a few moments before responding.

_I'm glad to hear that. That was... a new experience. I kind of want to do it again._

His face burns at this admittance, and he chews his lip a moment before quickly adding onto it.

_I miss you, too._

There's a short silence in which Yuuri's nerves fray completely, and he shoots out another text.

_So... what are you doing now?_

He soon gets his answer when Viktor sends him a picture. Yuuri has to try very hard to concentrate so he can read the cheeky caption along with it.

_Oh Yuuri I'm soooo exhausted I can barely move! I'm just resting in bed for a little bit now~~ <3_

Viktor is definitely very naked in this photo, aside from the collar he's still wearing. That's certainly his bare ass facing the camera. The look he's throwing over his shoulder is nearly obscured by damp and streaming hair, but Yuuri can see the mischief gleaming in his eyes. Yuuri can't keep his own from straying to something between Viktor's cheeks. Something black inside of him. Before he can hazard a guess, Viktor sends him another photo. This one has a more helpful caption.

_I'm so lonely... but luckily this plug is keeping me company!! ;)_

It's definitely a plug. A large one, so round that it stretches Viktor wide open. Viktor's on his back, his legs up and hips raised to present himself to the camera. His cock is hard and wet, and Yuuri can see the gleaming wetness of his rim wrapped tightly around the plug. Yuuri is suddenly aware of an annoying whining sound, and soon realizes that it's coming from his own throat. He doesn't bother trying to stop it. Nor does he try to wipe away the drool dripping down his parted lips. He starts to pant as Viktor sends another text.

_This one is my favorite! It inflates really big, but somehow... I don't feel satisfied? I wonder how big Yuuri's knot is~~~_

Yuuri has no idea, because Alphas only knot in Omegas, and he is woefully inexperienced in that field. He's in the middle of typing this when he stops abruptly.

"This is illegal," Yuuri whispers as another photo appears. This one is a close-up. He can see the pump attached to the plug now, the end clamped in Viktor's hand. There's a second cord attached to it that ends in a dial that Yuuri can only assume means that it vibrates. He feels himself start to vibrate as well, and he clutches his phone hard to stop his hands from shaking as he types frantically.

_You're teasing me! That's not fair!_

_I'm sorry Yuuri!! Want me to call you?_

Yuuri doesn't really have a choice, because his phone rings within the next few seconds. He answers quickly, trying not to stutter as he speaks.

"Viktor?"

" _Mmmmm,_ hello, Yuuri!" Viktor purrs, his voice heavy with sleep and lust. He sounds lazy and luxurious, and Yuuri can practically see him stretched across the sheets of his bed like a languid cat, his back arcing beautifully.

"Is that thing still inside of you?" Yuuri isn't sure he wants to know.

"I took it out," Viktor sighs, sounding a little reluctant. "I didn't want any distractions! Just you."

Yuuri fidgets in the quiet pause that follows. "It's nice to hear your voice again," he says softly. He feels a bit stupid saying this, because half a day hadn't even passed since he last heard it. But he's certain that he'd said the right thing, because Viktor's laughter on the other end is full of delight. Yuuri would say a million stupid things to hear that laugh.

"You'll get to hear it in person soon, I promise. This heat has been intense, but I have a feeling that it's a short cycle this time."

"'Intense' is an understatement," Yuuri murmurs, and he's rewarded with another laugh. "That was... not like anything I've ever... I mean. It was so _weird_. In a good way!"

"Well, a Bonded pair is more likely to share sensations when one or both are in their cycle," Viktor explains. "So I'm really glad that something like this happened. That's progress, right?"

"I saw through your eyes," Yuuri says in agreement, unable to keep the wonder out of his voice. "It wasn't perfect, not at all, but it happened. So that's good, right?"

There's an uncertainty hanging between them, laid out across hundreds of miles, but it doesn't feel like the bad kind. They're facing the unknown, yes, but Yuuri has a feeling that neither of them are very afraid anymore.

"Yuuri," Viktor says suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts, "about this weekend. I know it wasn't perfect, either. But I'm very happy that I got to spend it with you. I'm so happy that I got to be with you on your birthday. Thank you, Yuuri." His voice is so gentle that it nearly breaks, and Yuuri has to keep his own voice under control.

"I should be the one thanking you. You've done so much for me, Viktor. You always have, and you always do. I --" he pauses, biting back his surge of self-loathing. He had been about to say that he doesn't deserve Viktor, but that's the sort of thinking that makes that true. He refuses to ruin any more precious moments. "I really like you, Viktor. I'm sorry if I'm bad at showing it. So. Um. I just want you to know that I can't wait to see you again. So please hurry back."

He can hear Viktor breathing, and that's all he hears for the next few seconds until Viktor finally speaks. His words wrap Yuuri in something warm and soothing, easing away his worries as he curls up in Viktor's nest.

"Yes, zolotse. I'll call you as soon as I'm on my way home."

Home.

The call ends, and Yuuri presses his phone against his racing heart.

Viktor's coming home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way overdue, but I hope this makes up for it! <3

Viktor's heat is going to be the death of him, he's sure of it.

'Short but intense' had been an enormous understatement. Yuuri isn't sure how long Viktor's cycles usually last, but by the second half of the week, Yuuri starts to wonder if this one will ever end. He takes a moment to consider what Viktor's full cycle might be like, and how he'd ever survive it in the future. He can barely survive now as it is, his legs aching as he collapses in his chair at his desk. Trudging to and from his morning class had been absolute hell -- his thighs had been shaking the entire way. They'd been shaking, because this morning he'd come harder than he ever had in his entire life. At least, that's what he kept telling himself every time that he did. And then Viktor would reach for him across their Bond, or send him lewd photos, or absolutely _obscene_ videos, and Yuuri would discover that he could, indeed, come much harder.

Sitting in class the past few days had been a nightmare. He couldn't sit still, and although he kept his phone far from sight, images through Viktor's eyes still flashed through his mind. Broken images, fading in and out, but clear enough for him to have nearly felt him constrict around his cock, the taste of the sweat rolling down the back of his neck nearly on his tongue. Frantic texts politely asking him to, as he'd so aptly phrased it one day after almost tripping over a keyboard stool, ' _chill the fuck out_ ,' had been met with apologies, but to no real result. Viktor seemed to know how to control his feelings across their Bond just as much as Yuuri did -- which is to say, not at all. Not in the midst of his mind-numbing hormonal urges, anyway.

And so Yuuri suffered. He can't exactly say that he minds, of course. Just not when he has to rush out of class early, feeling himself stirring in his jeans. He often chooses to wear tight briefs and baggy pants when in his rut cycle, knowing that he'll be fighting down boners every few minutes or so. But the pants he unzips with a relieved sigh now are so tight that he's amazed he hadn't torn through them. Or maybe they just feel that tight because he's so big.

Another huge understatement. He starts to rub himself through his briefs, watching his cock twitch and swell as it nearly doubles in length. He sometimes sends Viktor photos of his own, and usually ones like this. Just the massive bulge in his underwear, a hand gripping the base to emphasize its size. Face usually not shown, as it makes him feel awkward, and he doesn't find himself particularly photogenic. Despite thinking otherwise, Viktor respects that, and the messages he responds with show that he more than appreciates anything Yuuri is willing to show him.

Yuuri's hands shake a bit as he grabs up his phone to snap a photo. He's so hard that it's painful, the full length of him laid across his thigh, the head nearly slipping out of the leg hole of his briefs. The white fabric is stretched so taut that the tone of his skin is just barely detectable, mere hints of the reddened flesh pulsing beneath it. Yuuri squeezes up his thick shaft, watching the wet patch at the tip of his cock grow. Viktor seems to really like this in particular, so Yuuri makes sure to bring attention to it.

Sending dick pics sort of makes him feel like a tool, but Viktor's reactions ease away any of his worries. Heaps of praise and approval, pleas for more, expressions of gratitude for sharing. It makes Yuuri feel good about himself, which isn't exactly a familiar feeling. But he likes it. A lot.

His phone vibrates almost immediately after he sends the photo.

_WOW!!! Yuuri you're such a tease!!! ;) So BIG...... I don't know if I can take it all~_

Viktor often _says shit like this_ and Yuuri is constantly torn between embarrassment and arousal. He wishes he could come up with better responses, but he isn't very good at dirty talk. He thinks.

_You should come here and find out._

He sends it without thinking, then freezes, watching the little check mark tick off as Viktor reads it. Oh, _GOD._

_Can I call you???_

Yuuri doesn't bother answering that, because he knows that Viktor already has his phone to his ear. Sure enough, the call comes through.

"You miss me that much, hmm?" Viktor's voice is thick, though Yuuri can't tell if it's sleep or lust he's hearing. Probably both. Viktor exhausts himself more frequently now, curling up for long naps more often than relieving his aching body. A sign that his heat is coming to an end.

"Yeah," Yuuri says softly, not even bothering with denial. Not that he'd really deny it, of course. His nerves just make this sort of thing a bit difficult to actually say. But, if Viktor's reassurances are anything to go by, he's made massive improvements in showing affection. Even if it's just admitting that he misses him. Yes, he does miss Viktor, and he'd let the world know it if he could. But for now, he'll keep that to just the two of them.

"Well," Viktor drawls, and Yuuri can hear the sound of rustling bed sheets as he stretches lazily, "maybe you'll see me sooner than you think."

"I wish you were here now."

"I can be."

Yuuri frowns, puzzled. "What? Did Yakov go back already to go get you?"

"No," Viktor says, tone light. "He's still in Detroit. I think. Elusive man, that Yakov."

"Okay," Yuuri says slowly, "then how would you get here?" If Yakov hadn't returned to New York, the private jet is most likely still here. And Yuuri can't imagine Viktor simply strolling into the nearest airport to fly public -- at least not without Yakov by his side. Or me, he adds, thinking of their recent travels. Is Viktor ever truly alone for very long? He'd stepped out a few times on his own, sure, but not to spend several hours in plain view at a busy airport.

"I'd hop on the soonest flight, of course."

"Alone?"

Viktor laughs softly, a sound that sends a small shiver down Yuuri's spine. But there's something else creeping down with it, making him uneasy.

"I told you, no one bothers me --"

"Yeah," Yuuri interrupts, "on campus. But you're talking about just, like, strolling into JFK or something --"

"I'm a little more discreet than that, Yuuri." The mock-hurt in Viktor's voice only puts Yuuri further on edge. Why isn't he taking this more seriously? "There are closer and smaller airports, you know."

Yuuri shifts uncomfortably, hitching up his jeans again. He's far from aroused now, and his heart is no longer pounding in excitement. It's pounding for an entirely different reason.

"That's not the point, I mean -- look, maybe it's better to wait for Yakov? Besides," Yuuri adds, grasping for something he's just remembered, "you're still in heat, aren't you? It isn't safe for you to be out by yourself, even if you hide your scent. You never know what might happen."

"No one will bother me," Viktor repeats, sounding very sure of himself. "Not while I smell like you."

Yuuri blinks in surprise. He hadn't really considered this. Is his scent really strong enough to have other Alphas backing down, even from the temptation of a powerful Omega in heat? Yuuri shudders hard at the thought of Viktor stepping into the terminal, commanding the immediate attention of those around him. What would happen? 

This is something Yuuri often doesn't like to think about. He thinks of the stories of crazed Alphas, fighting sometimes brutally for the chance to get their hands on Viktor. Driven mad by his scent. But no, surely those were exaggerations? The vague memory of the club, the videos of howling Alphas reaching desperately for the man on stage -- well, that had been quite the show, after all, and everyone had already been wasted and in the mood. But in broad daylight, in the middle of an airport? None of Viktor's teasing torture, his scent hidden as best as he could despite his heat. What would happen? What _could_ happen?

Yuuri stares down at his free hand, flexing his fingers, as he so often does when trying to remind himself that he's here, he's human, he's real. But the words _'animals'_ and _'put down'_ echo throughout his head again, making it start to spin. No, not him. He isn't like them. His friends aren't like them, either. Not at all. That isn't how Alphas are supposed to be. But who is 'them,' anyways? Do 'they' really exist, or is that something he's made up to convince himself that he's different?

"Is that really enough to keep you safe?" Yuuri asks, struggling out of his thoughts at last. He isn't very sure that it is.

"Of course!" Viktor says brightly. "You're one of the strongest Alphas I've ever seen. That's why I went to find you."

There's a silence that seems to last longer than the seconds of the timer ticking away on his screen as he lowers his phone, staring at it as though he could stare across hundreds of miles into someone else's eyes to search for an answer.

"What?" he whispers, and for a moment he isn't sure that Viktor heard him. But he's got his phone halfway back to his ear before he hears him start to speak, and he can hear the anxious tone of his voice immediately.

"You know. That night. At the club."

"You went to find me," Yuuri repeats dully, mind reeling, "because I was the strongest Alpha?"

"Well, yes, that's what I'd been trying to do," Viktor explains, seeming almost puzzled. "I've searched for so long, so when I heard that there was such a powerful Alpha in your city, I knew I had to find you as soon as possible. And I did. I could smell you from a mile away."

Yuuri feels a numbness in the back of his head, a tingling that spreads down to the nape of his neck, settling between his shoulder blades and seeming to freeze his lungs. There are too many things happening in his mind to just grasp at one and focus on it, so he stares at the far wall, praying for it all to stop so he can just _think._

"You've been searching for a powerful Alpha," Yuuri parrots again, feeling much like he had the day Viktor had first appeared in his dorm. Lost and overwhelmed by too much new information. "Why?"

"Well, there's only so much Yakov can do to keep me safe. And it gets boring, having him around all the time. With a scent like yours, I can be protected even when you're not with me."

Yuuri's vision blurs, and his hands begin to shake so hard that he has to grip his phone tighter, feeling it slip out of sweaty palms. He inhales as if to speak, but breathes out quickly, the words he'd meant to say suddenly leaving him. He tries again, and is surprised at how steady his voice sounds once he forces it out.

"You wanted me to protect you? Is that what all of this has been?"

There's a silence on Viktor's end as the weight of his own words seems to finally hit him, striking him dumb for a moment, and Yuuri can almost see how pale he is, almost feel the blood draining rapidly from his face.

"No! That isn't -- Yuuri, that isn't what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean?" He closes his eyes, taking a deep and shuddering breath. Relax. Communicate. Isn't that how this works? "Viktor. Please explain."

"Of course," Viktor says quickly, and the eager strain in his voice would have broken Yuuri's heart if he weren't so wary. "Yes, I've been looking for an Alpha to protect me. I'm tired of --" he pauses, and Yuuri can hear his throat working, "I just want to be safe, Yuuri. And so I've been searching. When I came across this city, well, you know how things are, how word gets around, and the word was that a very strong Alpha attended a nearby university. So I went to check it out. I didn't know anything about you, but I was determined to meet you and find out."

Yuuri is silent, and Viktor takes that as a cue to continue, though he does so very nervously.

"By the time I arrived to the campus, you just happened to be at a popular Alpha club nearby. I knew I had to act fast, but I'm always prepared for a stunt. It didn't take long for me to get dressed and have Yakov to sneak me through the back --"

"Yakov was there?" Yuuri asks, shocked.

"Yes. He always is. He's always there, and he's always prepared with one of my outfits, or he's always got the car running when I need to escape, or he's always got ways to get me into places. I told you. He takes care of me. He always has. He has ways."

"The club?" Yuuri prompts quietly, and Viktor scrambles back to his story.

"Right! When I took the stage, I knew I didn't have to look for you. I knew you'd come to me. I could smell you, and it was intoxicating, maddening, and if I hadn't been so good at keeping myself under control, I might have let you take me right there, in front of everyone. But your scent triggered my heat, which was entirely unexpected, and I knew I had to leave, whether it was with you or not. I know when a stunt has gone too far, and I know when I should make my escape."

Yuuri desperately tries to remember anything about that night. Anything beyond the hazy images that flash through his mind, the distant sounds of snarling and music, the feel of the press of the crowd around him. He recalls the video, at least, knowing it by heart. Remembering the exact moment Viktor had spotted him, the exact moment he made his way across the stage towards him, moving like a cat towards its prey.

"Then I saw you." Viktor's voice is soft now, distant, and the emotion laid bare in his words makes Yuuri's head spin, his hands trembling harder. "I saw you, Yuuri. I came to you, I had to see you up close. You looked so stunned there, watching me, recording me, frozen on the spot. I wanted you to take me home, to make me yours, to mark me with your scent. So I offered you a challenge."

_'Catch me if you can.'_

"You told me once that it was a game to you," Yuuri says, recalling the day Viktor had arrived, changing his life for good. "Taking my phone, uploading videos, it was all just a game."

There's a short pause. "That was the plan. At first. It didn't last very long."

"What do you mean?"

"I won't deny that I'd intended to toy with you, to have you come take me, since I knew I couldn't stay for much longer. That was my plan to make you mine, at least while I needed you. It's what I do. I'm sure you've already heard worse from my Pack. But that plan lasted maybe two entire seconds, because when I reached for your phone and took it from you, when I _really_ looked into your eyes..." he trails off, seeming distant again. Yuuri tries to meet him halfway.

"We Bonded?"

A short and self-deprecating laugh. "Well, _I_ Bonded, anyway."

Silence.

"It frightened me," Viktor continues softly. "It had never happened to me before. I didn't -- I never thought that... Well, it didn't matter what I thought. It happened. And so I ran. The club was too rowdy, and I was almost in shock. Seeing through someone else, feeling that... jolt? Like I'd been struck by something. I don't know how else to describe it."

Viktor had never really spoken of the actual moment when they had Bonded. Never told him what it had felt like. Maybe it isn't something that can be explained. Only felt. Yuuri feels a low thrum of anticipation beneath his nervousness. Would he find out soon?

"I had always thought that you would find me, that you'd feel me across our Bond, that you'd understand the hints I'd left for you. That you'd come to me. I needed you to. Yakov didn't want me to go looking for you."

"Why not?" Yuuri asks, despite knowing that the answer is obvious. Of course the man wouldn't trust an Alpha getting too close to Viktor. What kind of guardian would he be if he did?

"There are a lot of things Yakov doesn't want me to do," Viktor says a bit wryly. "But he'll be there for me, because he knows that I'll disobey him anyway. He knew what I was after, and in a way I suppose he wanted an Alpha to take me off his hands for good and give him a break. But he didn't trust any of them. He still doesn't."

"Sounds like a good man," Yuuri says softly.

"He is," Viktor agrees, "and I don't deserve him. I... I don't deserve you, either. I'm sorry."

"Don't say that." Yuuri knows that he's supposed to be upset, that he's supposed to resent Viktor for the way he may have used him, had it not been for their unexpected connection. But he doesn't. "Look. Once you're ready to come back, we'll sit down and talk."

A sharp intake of breath in his ear is a sign that he'd hopefully said the right thing.

"Yuuri. I'm on my way."

 _"What?"_  

"I have to see you. I can't wait. I promise I'll be safe."

Yuuri's at a loss for words. What could he say to convince Viktor to stay until someone came to get him? Nothing, of course. Viktor would find a way, no matter what. He'd hop onto the very next flight, and Yuuri would have to agonize for hours, waiting to hear back from him. Not knowing if he's alright.

"You can feel me across our Bond, you know."

Yuuri blinks. Right. He'd have some way of knowing, at least. He'd be able to feel his presence, to at least know that he's alive. He isn't sure if his heavy unease is lifted, but he certainly feels a little lighter as they say their goodbyes and hang up. Viktor would send him the flight information, and he could track that as well.

He'll be okay, Yuuri tells himself, staring down at his phone. He'll come home safe.

Yuuri's next class is hell, but this time it's because he can't feel anything at all. Almost. The smallest twinges of something travel through to him, as though Viktor were checking in to let him know that he's still there, but otherwise there's nothing. Well, he amends, not _nothing_. If he concentrates enough, he can feel a low and muted thrum on the edges of his consciousness. Viktor's there, and he must be trying very hard to focus on keeping himself undetectable. Would others be able to sense the aura around him if he were to tap into their Bond? Yuuri can certainly feel something strange in the air when a Bonded pair around him communicates wordlessly. He knows this because it makes him feel awkward.

Still, Yuuri can't help but wonder if all of this is entirely necessary. Being out in public with Viktor hadn't drawn any unwarranted attention so far -- that he was aware of. He tries frantically to recall any looks they might have received, but Viktor appeared to be right. No one would bother him. Not with Yuuri's scent on him. They can look all they like, but that was it.

The things he does suddenly recall, however, include all the moments Viktor seemed to crave his scent. He'd clutched his onigiri pillow the day he'd shown up to his dorm room, not seeming to want to let it go. He'd made his nest out of piles of Yuuri's clothing. He'd _worn_ Yuuri's clothing, clinging to his jacket with what Yuuri had always assumed was sentimentality. _'That's what boyfriends do.'_ The rings, Yuuri remembers, flushing and hoping that no one in the lecture hall looks his way. He hasn't forgotten the rings, kept safely among his things, having taken them with the promise that he'd let Viktor know when he was ready. Further proof that Viktor belonged to him, were they both to start wearing them. Bold and gold reminders for all to see.

Yuuri blushes harder, picturing the black and gold collar around Viktor's neck. Another reminder. Viktor had told him that he wanted the world to know who owned him. But Yuuri's no longer sure if it's out of pride. 

_He wants to protect himself. It has nothing to do with me._

No, he thinks, rising from his desk shakily as the class finally ends, that's not true. Viktor wants to be with him. He's the only person in the world who can ever know Viktor's love. And the sooner he believes that, the sooner it'll come true.

He returns to an empty room again. It never feels right when he does. When Phichit isn't here flipping through art history textbooks, he's in the studio and working on his paintings for his final critiques. Unfortunately, his absence only makes Viktor's all the more obvious. 

Yuuri eyes his own pile of textbooks with growing apprehension. He should be studying, too. And he should be in the music wing just as often. Preparing. The thought almost paralyzes him. The expectations people have had towards him have been unbearably high ever since his video had gone viral. But Yuuri has yet to come anywhere near that performance. Will he ever?

Viktor wants to teach him. Viktor wants to help him improve. But can he? Yuuri would be the first to admit that he isn't taking what's supposed to be his future career as seriously as he should. What does he want, anyway? What is his goal? To perform? To be the best?

And can he do any of those things without Viktor?

He's my muse, Yuuri realizes, the thought striking him without warning, although it should have been obvious enough. Viktor's his muse, and he always has been. Not someone to surpass or live up to, but someone to be inspired by. Is that so wrong? Is it wrong to need him? Is it wrong to do this for him? No, it isn't. It shouldn't be. And he'll prove it. He'll even compose his own piece -- just for Viktor. And he'll play it for the world to hear. This burst of determination only makes him even more anxious to have Viktor back. He glances at his phone again, checking the time. Viktor should be arriving soon. And Yuuri can't wait to welcome him home.

Welcome him? he thinks in alarm, suddenly feeling like an idiot. Yes, Yuuri should be there to welcome him. At the airport. _Obviously._

He scrambles for a coat, slipping back into his shoes and racing out the door. He doesn't have the time to search for Chris, or anyone else who might be able to give him a ride. They're probably in class or studying. But he doesn't mind shelling out the money for an Uber, nearly collapsing in relief when one responds immediately. He wouldn't mind paying anything. Not if it gets him to Viktor faster.

Yuuri checks his phone again during the ride, silently trying not to curse out the traffic he's stuck in. His heart drops when he sees that Viktor's flight has landed, but doesn't see any texts from him. He reaches out cautiously across their Bond, fearing the worst. He can feel something faint, but it's definitely there. Definitely real. Waiting? He almost trips stepping out of the cab, pulling his coat closer around him as he barrels through the icy winter wind, bursting into the airport perhaps a bit too dramatically. Relax, he tells himself, trying to regain his composure despite the looks he's receiving. Relax, and focus on finding Viktor.

He glances around at the many baggage carousels and the small crowds surrounding them. How easily could he spot Viktor? Would he have bothered with any kind of disguise? A real one, not the half-assed one he wears around campus. Either way, Yuuri should be able to sense him. The both of them haven't ever seemed to have full control of their Bond, so how is Viktor so undetectable? He moves from carousel to carousel, his vision blurring too hard to read the text scrolling across digital signs indicating which belongs to which airline. Groups shift suddenly, luggage being redirected, and Yuuri finds himself lost within the press of the crowd.

None of the people here are Viktor. Where is he? Yuuri passes further into the airport, determined to go as far as he can without a boarding pass. This doesn't leave him many options, so if Viktor's still in one of the terminals, he can't do much more than wait for him here. And maybe that's it. Maybe there's been a delay. Maybe he stopped along the way to eat. Maybe he's on his way right now. Maybe he'll step right out, all smiles and twinkling eyes, throwing his arms wide and shouting his name.

Yuuri's so busy searching for a good place to settle down to wait within sight of the gates that he nearly walks right by him.

Yuuri has to do a double take. There he is. Yuuri had been looking for something more subtle, but he'd almost missed the obvious.

Viktor's standing before one of the large signs, staring at the list of flights blinking and flashing across it. He's so still, his long silver hair flowing free around him, that he truly does seem like a ghost. He isn't moving, but Yuuri can tell by the set of his shoulders that he knows he's been spotted. 

He turns at the same time Yuuri rushes forward, duffel bag slipping off his shoulder as he opens his arms for him. Yuuri fits perfectly between them, and when he feels them wrap around him, he has to choke back a sob. He buries his face deep into Viktor's shoulder, arms thrown about him, hands gripping the back of his coat as if his life depended on it. They're silent for a moment, the two of them just holding each other in the middle of the airport, in the middle of the crowd, in the middle of their world. Yuuri doesn't want to break the silence, but he knows he has to.

"I couldn't feel you."

Viktor hugs him tighter at this, pressing his face into Yuuri's hair before speaking.

"I know. I'm sorry."

Yuuri pulls away to look him in the eyes, and what he sees there is unsettling, taking him slightly off guard.

"Why? We don't have that much control, not really, so why... how..." He has to trail off, his voice starting to tremble. He doesn't want Viktor to know how badly shaken he is. The thoughts of losing him, of him being taken away, hurt, or worse all resurface, breaking loose from where he'd tried so hard to lock them away.

"I'm not sure how. I just know that I wanted to hide, and so I did."

Fear, Yuuri realizes, his stomach twisting sickeningly. That's what's in his eyes. The fear of an animal preparing to flee.

"You were scared?"

"Yes. And fear is a powerful motivator." He smiles a bit wryly now. "I would know."

Yuuri doesn't understand, but that doesn't stop him from trying. What does Viktor have to be afraid of? Why does he speak of fear like it's something he's used to? Is Viktor afraid of _him?_ His eyes dart from Viktor's face, so tense and worn, to the duffel bag on the ground beside him, to the list of flights he'd been staring at so intently. Something clicks, although he wishes it hadn't.

"You were going to leave," Yuuri says softly, his gaze back on Viktor's face. Watching. Waiting.

"I... considered it. For a moment."

Yuuri can only stare at him, absolutely stricken. What the hell does he mean, _considered_ it? Viktor was going to _leave?_ Catch a flight elsewhere? _Why?_

"Is this a test?" he asks suddenly, starting to tremble. The confusion in Viktor's eyes tells him that it isn't, but he can't stop himself from continuing in a panicked rush. "Are you trying to see if I really -- I mean, if we can really Bond? Are you trying to see if I'll chase after you, stop you from leaving, protect you, like a good Alpha should? Are you trying to see if choosing me was worth it after all?"

Viktor's eyes widen, his face growing pale, but Yuuri cuts him off before he can speak.

"Because I don't know how to be a good Alpha. I don't know how to do anything. I'm used to being blamed for my own failures, but," he pauses, his voice cracking slightly, "if I fail you, if I... if I can't be the kind of Alpha worthy of Viktor Nikiforov..." he trails off again, his voice shaking too wildly, his eyes blinking back tears furiously.

Viktor seems stunned, unable to react fast enough to Yuuri's sudden outburst.

"Yuuri," he says, finally finding his voice, "I would never want to leave you --"

"I know!" Yuuri nearly shouts, drawing looks from those around them. He sees security eyeing them and lowers his voice as best as he can, not wanting to cause a scene. "I know that. You'd never want to leave me, even if I'm the worst."

A hand raises to catch the first tear, thumb wiping it away gently as it falls. Another hand raises, the both of them slowly cupping Yuuri's face to tilt it upwards. Viktor's face is so soft, all traces of fear gone, replaced by something genuine that Yuuri has never been able to name. His thumbs brush his cheeks gingerly, and Yuuri has to stop himself from closing his eyes and melting in his palms.

"You're perfect, Yuuri," Viktor whispers, and Yuuri is shocked to see the tears starting to well in his eyes, running down his face in flawless rivers, shining so bright that they're nearly blinding. Viktor blinks, as though surprised by his own tears, but his gaze is steady on Yuuri, his brow furrowing in earnest. "You're perfect, and I don't deserve you. I'd never want to leave you, but deep down, I know that you'd be better off without me being a burden in your life."

Yuuri shakes his head in disbelief. What the hell is he talking about? "Why would you think that?"

"I only bring trouble. You've spoken to Mila and Yuri. You've spoken to Yakov. You should know. That's all I've ever done. I --" he pauses, and Yuuri can feel his fingers trembling against his skin, "I thought that when I got here, when you wanted to talk... that you'd end things. That you'd be upset about what I'd done. That you'd break our Bond. That's why I was afraid. That's why I had the stupid idea to leave. I didn't mean to hide from you. It just... happened. I couldn't control it."

"I'd never do that," Yuuri says quickly, his heart plummeting. "I would -- no, Viktor, I wouldn't, I couldn't ever." He closes his eyes and takes a deep and shuddering breath. He feels a surge of emotions broiling below the surface of his mind, waiting to break through, but maybe the middle of the airport isn't the best place to unleash them. But he can't help himself. Something is coursing through his veins, burning hotter than any rut or rush he'd ever felt before.

"From now on," he starts, his voice low but steadily picking up intensity, "I'm not afraid. I don't care if anyone sees us. I don't care what anyone thinks of us. Let me be the one who stole Viktor Nikiforov from the world, even if I am a lousy Alpha. I'll do anything I can to protect you, if that's what you need. I'm not afraid of... whatever it is you're afraid of. I'm not afraid of _this_. Of us. And you shouldn't be, either. You don't have to hide anymore, Viktor."

He pulls Viktor in before he can answer, throwing his arms around him and darting his head forward to brush their cheeks together. He nuzzles him fiercely, protectively, without caring about anyone who might be watching. He's going to scent Viktor in public, and no one is going to stop him. He's got his collar on, Yuuri realizes belatedly, his cheek rubbing over the smooth leather as he nuzzles down towards his neck. Good. Yuuri wants the world to see it.

"Maybe I don't know what this feeling is really called," he murmurs against his skin, "but if it's... if it's love, then I'll show it to the world. So, please... let me take care of you?"

Viktor's arms are around his shoulders, his fingers and his face buried into Yuuri's hair. He inhales deeply, shakily, and Yuuri can feel a wetness that must be tears. Happy tears, he hopes, pulling away nervously. Had he overstepped?

But Viktor's faint scent fills his nostrils, and when he pulls away, his face is soft and warm, that almost-unnamed feeling glowing in his eyes. Viktor takes his hand gently, eyes never leaving Yuuri's face as he presses a quick kiss to his knuckles. A grin that's almost sly starts to play around his lips, and Yuuri finds himself smiling back before Viktor can even speak.

"Sounds almost like a marriage proposal."

Yuuri's smile only widens, and he can see the amazement in Viktor's eyes at this reaction. No, he won't shy away. He won't be embarrassed. He won't deny anything. Not anymore.

"Let's go home."

They link arms as one, holding each other close as they make their way towards the exit. Yuuri forces himself to keep his head up, to look people in the eye as they pass, their gazes lingering longer than he would have liked. Viktor's scent isn't at its full force, but it's noticeable enough for Yuuri to spot more than just a few people sniffing the air. He even sees a few phones raised, but he doesn't bother looking away.

Let them, Yuuri thinks defiantly, not even sparing them a backwards glance as they climb into their cab. Let them see us.

Yuuri can feel the difference in the air immediately as soon as they enter the campus. Heads turn, tilted up curiously at them as they pass. For some odd reason, Yuuri doesn't feel quite as threatened. But that thought alone is unnerving -- the realization that the two of them had been safe here all along, and that Yuuri hadn't even had the slightest taste of real fear until the two of them were in public, in the _real_ world. Their shopping spree in New York hadn't even phased Yuuri as much as their meeting in the airport. In New York, Viktor had been more concealed. Also, Yakov had been with them, and there was something about the man that made Yuuri feel safe. Definitely a hitman, Yuuri thinks firmly, guiding Viktor along the walkways towards the dorms.

These are just students, he tells himself. His peers. Even his friends. Their curiosity is just that. Curiosity. Nothing malicious here. Although, he adds, side-eyeing a few phones not-so-discreetly aimed in their direction, not exactly innocent, either. Just nosy. And nosy isn't particularly dangerous, just annoying. Just as annoying as the notifications he had turned off days ago, tired of fake Ghost spottings. Or real ones, perhaps. Yuuri hadn't checked ever since, even after coming back from New York. _Especially_ after coming back from New York. He wouldn't be surprised if someone had sneaked a few shots of them, as blissful and oblivious as they had been that day. But after today, after Viktor had so boldly strolled through large crowds, scent unleashed for all to detect, Yuuri can't help but wonder if he should check now. He knows he won't like what he finds.

Yuuri's jolted out of his thoughts by the feel of Viktor's hand sliding from around his arm and slipping into his own. Yuuri squeezes him lightly, looking up at him questioningly. Viktor looks as though he's more than content to let Yuuri lead the way, but there's something in his face that suggests that he has something on his mind.

"What's wrong?"

"Well," he starts, gazing off into the distance, and he doesn't have to finish his sentence before Yuuri understands.

"We don't have to go back to the room," Yuuri says, although the wind picking up slightly makes him sort of want to. He should have brought his hat with him. "Wanna sit under our tree?"

Viktor's face lights up in a way that warms him through, and by the time they reach their tree, he's almost forgotten how cold it is outside. He doesn't tell this to Viktor, who pulls him close as they settle onto the grass, meaning to shield him from the wind.

"I'll keep you warm," he murmurs in his ear, and Yuuri's shiver only convinces him to move closer, wrapping his arms around him and drawing him into his lap. His breath is warm against the back of Yuuri's neck, coming in small puffs interrupted by the occasional sigh of content. Yuuri leans back into him, melting into his embrace and inhaling his scent. Such a good scent. Yuuri's happy to finally be able to experience it more often, and without fear of himself or others losing control.

Soft laughter pressed into his hair makes his scalp tingle, and Viktor's arms squeeze him a bit tighter.

"Hm?"

"Nothing," Viktor says, and Yuuri can feel his lips curve into a smile against his skin. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."

I'm the lucky one, Yuuri thinks, shivering again as those lips slowly trail down the side of his head. They hover by his ear again, soft and warm. All of Viktor is so soft and warm, keeping him safe, enveloping him in an almost sleepy haze. Yuuri leans his head back against Viktor's shoulder, tilting his head slightly so that their cheeks brush. He can just barely see the silver fringe of his eyelashes above the high curve of his cheek.

I want to kiss him, Yuuri thinks suddenly, his heart pounding wildly. Such a stupid revelation after so long -- after the teasing, the touching, the photos, their words, their feelings stretched across miles. Of course he wants to kiss him. So why hasn't he?

"Are you okay?" Viktor asks softly, and the movement of that smooth cheek against his own nearly has Yuuri paralyzed, unable to think of a coherent answer.

"I... Viktor, I --"

"Hello, gorgeous!"

Yuuri winces hard, jerking up and trying not to shout in alarm. He should have known some type of bullshit like this would happen. The voice had called out so suddenly and so closely, leaving Yuuri more shaken than he'd like to admit. He'd been too lost in Viktor's scent to notice a different one getting too close, and the sound of Viktor's breathing had dulled the sound of approaching steps. He'll have to be more alert if he wants to be a good Alpha.

"What, aren't you happy to see me?"

Yuuri has several answers to that, but all he can do is give Chris a sullen look as he settles onto the grass across from them. He can see Chris' nose twitch in a way that's very much _not_ subtle, but then again, Yuuri isn't sure Chris has ever been subtle in his entire life. And sure enough, he leans forward to bat his lashes charmingly at Viktor, his lips curling into a teasing smirk.

"Talking to _you,_ darling."

Viktor only laughs, and Yuuri's relieved at the absence of any fear or unease across their Bond. Chris is trustworthy. Somewhat, he amends, watching him delicately take Viktor's hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

"Really?" Yuuri asks dully, too warm and drowsy to actually care. "Right in front of me?"

"I like the element of danger," Chris purrs, releasing Viktor and grabbing up Yuuri's hand instead. "Would you like a kiss, too?"

"Sure," Yuuri says with a sigh, "you're trying to take my boyfriend, you might as well also try to take my dignity, I guess."

Chris' eyes light up immediately, nearly glowing as he sits back, hand raised to his mouth in exaggerated shock.

 _"Boyfriend?_ Are we official, now? Did you two elope? Without me? Come on, let's see the rings!" 

Yuuri scrambles wildly for an answer to this sudden onslaught, but before he can speak, he feels Viktor take his hand from around him, reaching up to tug at the ring of his collar. Yuuri can almost see the sly grin on his face.

"No, no marriage yet. This is an engagement collar! Right, Yuuri?"

Yuuri chokes on the words that had been trying to escape his throat, coughing wildly as Chris begins to clap cheerfully.

"Congratulations! I never thought I'd see the day, Yuuri! We have to celebrate!" He pauses to look around, and Yuuri has about half a second to realize that he's searching for a familiar face before he can stop him. He seems to spot one, and Yuuri contemplates burrowing underground and dying as he waves grandly and shouts across campus.

"HEY! Hey, Phichit! Come here, Yuuri just got _engaged!"_

Oh my fucking _God_ , Yuuri thinks, sliding down in Viktor's lap as though he could slide out of existence just as easily. Phichit, paint-splattered and grinning ear to ear, flops onto the ground in front of him, grabbing his arm to yank him up into a bone-crushing hug. Yuuri wouldn't mind being crushed to death right about now, because it seems as though every person within a mile radius has stopped to gawk at them. Yuuri thinks he sees phones raised again.

"I hate you," he tells Chris with no real feeling. Chris seems to be aware, nodding in agreement before turning back to Viktor.

"Well, _someone's_ out and proud today. It's a pleasure to finally get to experience the _real you_ ," he adds, crinkling his nose for emphasis and winking.

Viktor seems amused by this, eyes darting to meet Yuuri's and sparkling in a way that takes his breath away. Or maybe it's just Phichit still squeezing the life out of him.

"No more hiding for me. For us."

Yuuri's face grows warmer, and Phichit wastes no time pinching it lovingly.

"Aww, how cute! Now Yuuri can introduce his mate to all his little friends!"

Before Yuuri can sputter over the word 'mate,' Viktor pipes up beside him.

"I've never had friends," he says cheerfully. "How exciting!"

There's a small and almost uncomfortable pause as Yuuri exchanges quick glances with Chris and Phichit. Yuuri's somewhat grown used to Viktor's habit of saying bizarre or sometimes awkward things suddenly, and he can't help but worry that others may not catch on as well. Aside from maybe Phichit, no one here has ever truly gotten to know Viktor -- the _real_ Viktor. Not the suave, seductive, secretive Ghost of everyone's fantasies. Just Viktor.

What if they don't like him? Yuuri thinks, immediately feeling stupid for having such a childish fear. They don't have to like him. Yuuri likes him, and that's all that matters. But he's still immensely relieved when Chris grins broadly and leans closer.

"Yeah? Well, I'm your friend now. We'll be _best_ friends, won't we?" He winks at him outrageously, and Viktor doesn't miss a beat, his smile sweeter than ever.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. Phichit's my best friend. But you can be second best!"

Chris looks caught between astonishment and indignation, but Yuuri can see the laughter in his eyes despite his mock-angry huffing. Phichit throws an arm around Viktor proudly, sticking his tongue out at Chris.

"Sorry, I guess _I'm_ the Alpha, now!"

"What am I, the side dish?" Yuuri mutters, but it's hard for him to keep up his grumbling as he watches the two of them pretend to argue for Viktor's affection. Viktor himself looks twice as amused as he had before, following their back-and-forth eagerly. Yuuri doesn't realize he's been staring, a small and content smile on his face, until Viktor's eyes catch his. Something passes between them, filling Yuuri's stomach with a heat that, for some reason, makes him shiver. Viktor perks up at this immediately.

"Yuuri! Are you still cold?" He's on his feet before Yuuri can answer, dragging up Phichit with him. "We'll get you some coffee! Come on, best friend!"

He sets off towards the coffee shop with fierce determination, Phichit happily in tow and turning to flip off Chris one last time. Yuuri watches them go fondly, but that quickly becomes wariness as he eyes everyone they pass before they slip from view entirely. Viktor's certainly drawing looks, and though they still remain benignly curious, Yuuri knows that this respectful distance won't last very long. He wonders how long it'll take for people to start approaching Viktor, start asking him questions, start... trying to befriend him? Seduce him? Impress him?

Treat him like a person, Yuuri realizes, still staring into the distant crowd. How long until the world starts treating Viktor Nikiforov like an actual person?

"Miss him already?"

Yuuri jumps slightly, having forgotten that Chris was even still with him. This earns him a teasing grin.

"Oh, did I interrupt any... _private_ thoughts?"

"Fuck off," Yuuri huffs. Chris scoots closer, clearly not taking Yuuri's kind advice.

"Speaking of fucking, how's that going?" He waggles his eyebrows at him, nudging his side eagerly.

"That's not really any of your business," Yuuri says, the both of them immediately knowing what that really means. Yuuri has to suppress a groan at Chris' obvious delight.

"Waiting until marriage, hmm? How romantic!"

"It's not that," Yuuri says, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable. He pauses, frowning slightly. He isn't sure how to explain the way he feels. "I just don't want to rush things. I don't... I don't know if things will change once we..." he trails off, feeling his face burn.

Chris looks puzzled, and Yuuri doesn't blame him. He had never quite explained their Bond to anyone but Phichit, and even then, he hadn't really made much sense. He still isn't making much sense. What is he so afraid of? Afraid of their Bond not working out, of course. And mating often triggers Bonding. So what if they Bond again, before they're ready? What if it somehow makes things worse? Is that even possible? Yuuri's mind reels with all the possibilities, and he shakes his head slightly.

"Well," Chris says, shrugging, "good luck with that. I could never hold out that long." He pauses, then smirks. "And just wait until the day he calls you 'Alpha.'"

Yuuri tenses, his cheeks hotter than ever.

"H-huh?" he stutters, though he knows damn well what Chris means.

But Chris seems more than happy to elaborate, leaning over and nearly breathing in his ear.

"I can tell you for a fact that _nothing_ makes me lose control faster than the sight of my Omega on his back, looking up at me and whimpering," he moves closer, his voice barely a whisper, _"'Alpha, please?'"_

Yuuri shudders hard, biting back a sharp gasp as Chris moves away, cackling triumphantly and clapping him on the shoulder.

"But, like I said! Good luck."

By the time Viktor and Phichit return, Yuuri's warm enough not to even need the steaming hot cup handed to him. But he happily accepts it, trying not to choke when he realizes that Viktor is staring at him intently, seeming to be waiting for his approval. The look of relief on his face when Yuuri smiles is so sweet that Yuuri feels his head begin to spin, and he nearly drops his coffee onto his lap.

"Maybe we should get you inside," Viktor says, putting an arm around him and looking concerned. "We can go back to the room, if you want?"

Yuuri opens his mouth, then shuts it, chewing his lip for a moment. A memory comes back to him. A promise he'd made to himself.

"I have a better idea."

When Viktor realizes that they're heading to the music wing, he shoots Yuuri a sideways glance, surprise and expectancy radiating from him almost palpably. Almost as palpable as the tension thick in the air as they enter, a muffled cacophony of sound greeting them from the halls as students rush back and forth between rooms, looking worn and harried as they prepare for recitals.

I should look like that, Yuuri thinks guiltily, leading Viktor along towards the practice rooms. His Junior Recital isn't until next term, but he should still be rehearsing for his other classes. Soon, hopefully. If he can figure something out, if he can get his thoughts and feelings into order, he'd have something passable. Soon. Hopefully.

He isn't surprised to find his usual room occupied, not having fully expected any privacy during the chaos of finals month. Leo's in deep concentration at one of the keyboards, but Guang-Hong glances up at them as they enter.

"Hey, Yuuri!" His eyes widen as he notices Viktor enter behind him. "Oh! And Pochi, too!"

"His name is Viktor," Yuuri says with a deep sigh, plopping onto the stool at his keyboard. Viktor settles down next to him, beaming excitedly.

"I know," Guang-Hong says, grinning a bit slyly. "But I think 'Pochi' sounds cuter. Right, Leo?"

Leo nods absently, his head dipping just a little too low as he does so. Guang-Hong places a hand on his shoulder in concern, and Leo seems to snap out of his daze. Somewhat. His fingers are still moving, though they come to a slow rest now.

"Sorry," Leo says, and the rest of his sentence is swallowed by an enormous yawn. Guang-Hong shoots him a knowing look, tugging at his sleeve to get him to stand.

"Come on, it's time for a nap. No more coffee," he adds as Leo opens his mouth to protest. 

They wave goodbye and wish him good luck, and Yuuri watches them go with growing apprehension. It isn't until the door shuts that he realizes just how silent the room is without Leo's playing. Silent and empty. Just him. Him and Viktor. He turns to him, only to find blue eyes fixed on him intently. So close, Yuuri thinks faintly. Had Viktor been sitting this close to him this entire time? Had he been looking at him like _that_ this entire time? Looking at his lips, eyes gleaming beneath lowered lashes.

"Did you want to show me something, Yuuri?"

He did. And he does, turning in his seat to face the keyboard and looking everywhere but at Viktor. He tries to focus on warming up his wrists and flexing his fingers, anything to distract him from the thought of Viktor's eyes still burning into his soul. Why is he looking at him like that?

"I was, um, thinking... about what you told me. About my playing. About my motivation." His hands hover above the keys, and he wills them not to shake. "You've always been my inspiration, Viktor. So much has happened, and I think I'd forgotten that. It almost didn't seem worth it at first. Trying to live up to the performance I copied, I mean. But maybe I don't have to. So... I'm trying out something new."

"That's wonderful, Yuuri," Viktor says softly, his expression most likely just as soft. "Anything you do will be perfect, I know it."

Yuuri swallows hard, feeling his face burn. If Viktor believes in him, maybe that's enough. His fingers rest on the keys now, but he pauses, giving Viktor a sort of sheepish look.

"Well, it isn't _that_ new. I had planned this for my sophomore year, but it was... kind of dull? I was told composing my own piece so soon was a little too ambitious of me, so I stuck to something simple. But I haven't forgotten this, so with a little work..." he trails off, looking away and shrugging.

Viktor is silent, watching him. Waiting. Yuuri takes a deep breath, letting something familiar but nearly forgotten course through the length of his body. It tingles, raising the hairs at the back of his neck, and his mind seems to clear itself of everything but what he's about to play. If there's one thing he prides himself on, it's his memorization. With the bare-bones of the piece firmly in mind, letting it shift and flow to suit his emotions seems almost easy, and his fingers come down with a certainty that he hasn't felt in quite some time.

At least, they do for about half a second, because Viktor speaks up immediately, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Wrong."

Yuuri turns to gape at him.

"Huh?"

"Wrong," Viktor repeats cheerfully, raising a hand to tap lightly on his wrist. "Keep your wrists more flexible. And relax your arms. You should know this by now, Yuuri."

"You've never told me this before!" Yuuri can't help but feel indignant at Viktor's sudden lecturing.

"You've never actually cared before," Viktor shoots back, his smile sweet as usual.

Yuuri can't exactly argue with this, and he does his best to follow Viktor's advice, as unwarranted as it had been. He tries to return to his previous state of mind, letting himself relax, letting himself become weightless, thoughtless. The first few notes are searching, hesitant, and Yuuri lets them wander, lets them find their way into something faster, something more sure. There's a jump in tempo that he rolls with, letting his fingers guide him down the path his mind is slowly but surely laying out before him. There's something much more cheerful about this song than he remembers -- something hopeful and sincere. It's different, and he likes it.

It grows into something surprisingly complex, the notes seeming to ring out without Yuuri making them do so, and it isn't until Viktor starts humming that Yuuri realizes that he's playing along with him, fingers flying and hands crossing his effortlessly. The notes are deliberate and rhythmic in a way that reminds Yuuri of song lyrics, and sure enough, Viktor starts to sing under his breath. But, much to Yuuri's disappointment and embarrassment, this little revelation throws him off, and he comes to a discordant halt. Viktor's playing comes to a much more graceful finish, and he still hums to himself as he tilts his head to give Yuuri a small smile.

"Sorry," Yuuri blurts nervously. "I just... I wasn't expecting that. What are you singing, anyway?"

"I don't know," Viktor says with a laugh, glancing down at his fingers as though they had done something mischievous without him. "I heard words. And so I sang." He plays the keys again lightly, singing along softly. _"You're so beautiful tonight..."_ he trails off, humming the rest and looking very pleased.

Yuuri stares at him, amazed. He really shouldn't be surprised at this point. Many unusual things seem to happen along their Bond, why should this one stand out so clearly? Yuuri isn't sure, but he wants it to continue. He never wants it to end. He resumes his own playing, managing to pick up where he left off after a few searching notes, and Viktor's playing rises to meet his. They meld, hands crossing so quickly that they nearly blur together, and Yuuri has another ill-timed moment of clarity where he finally registers just how much closer Viktor is sitting next to him. Their shoulders brush, Viktor's long hair tickling his arm, and when Yuuri feels a leg press up against his, he jolts, head snapping to the side in time to catch Viktor's gaze.

The small smile still hasn't left his face, and there's something secretive about the way his lips curve, hiding something that Yuuri suddenly feels the strongest urge to discover. He's so close. His scent is strong in a way that isn't overpowering, but it seems to fill Yuuri to the brim, filling his stomach with something hot and twisting.

"Beautiful," he blurts again, his face hot. Viktor's smile twitches, slightly teasing.

"What?"

"The music," Yuuri says, struggling to make sense under the increasing heat of Viktor's gaze. "It's beautiful. Can't you hear it?"

Viktor leans closer, his voice low and sweet.

"Yuuri. We've stopped playing."

So they had. But it's music Yuuri hears when his hands raise to cup Viktor's face, sliding back to tangle in his long and soft hair. It's music Yuuri hears when he feels Viktor's hand at the small of his back, warming him a thousand times faster than any coat or cup of coffee. And it's music Yuuri hears when he closes his eyes, music he hears when Viktor's scent envelopes him, music ringing in his ears as their lips meet. Viktor's as delicious as he smells, the taste of him sending shivers tearing down Yuuri's spine as he pulls him closer, deepening their kiss, but slowly, so very slowly, as slow and as searching as his fingers had been at the shining white keys, as slow as his fingers through shining silver strands. A slowness offset by his heartbeat, by _their_ heartbeat, pounding faster and harder until Yuuri's certain that they'll never survive it, never survive the fire that consumes them, and it burns as he pulls away, melting at sight of Viktor, breathless and amazed, his cheeks pink and his blue eyes dancing with a light Yuuri's never seen before.

Heavy breathing against his lips. A heavy hand at his waist, keeping him steady. A heavy tongue, weighing in his mouth and leaving him speechless, robbed of any words he might have thought of. If he can think at all.

And the music, still playing as clearly as ever, but it's changed -- light and airy, beautiful and ethereal, and Viktor's eyes widen in wonder at the sound.

"I hear it," he says softly, and his sly grin registers a few seconds too late in Yuuri's sluggish mind. "The music."

It's Viktor, his free hand tapping out something simple and sweet on the keyboard, and Yuuri has to stare at it for a few moments before reality catches back up to him. He swats at Viktor's arm, trying to huff indignantly, but Viktor's laughter is as infectious as always, and Yuuri can barely snort out a proper response before dissolving in a fit of giggling.

"Don't make _fun_ of me, you asshole!"

"Never," Viktor murmurs, laughter giving way to a passion that leaves Yuuri stunned as he pulls him in for another kiss.

There's a new urgency to this one, a fire that leaves them restless, twitching and agitated, needing something more, _more,_ and it isn't enough just for Yuuri to run his fingers through Viktor's hair and tug, it isn't enough just to touch the smooth and heated skin of his cheek, and the fingers of one hand trail down his neck to curl around the ring of his collar at the same time as his other hand reaches down to squeeze his thigh. Viktor moans loudly into Yuuri's mouth and jerks his hips so hard that the two of them nearly topple off their stools, separating at last to catch themselves as they get to their feet unsteadily. 

"Sorry," Viktor gasps, and Yuuri can see him sweating, "I'm still a little... sensitive."

Right. His heat. Almost over, but if Yuuri awakens it now, he might have to bend him over one of the keyboards. Which isn't exactly a good idea.

Their hands are still on each other where they'd tried to catch their fall, and Yuuri draws Viktor in cautiously, hoping not to set him off again. He feels arms wrap around him tight, and he starts to purr as Viktor nuzzles him adoringly. He hears him sigh in content. Hears him sigh again. Another sigh, this one shuddering slightly, and Yuuri feels Viktor's chest hitch against him. He doesn't have to see him to know that he's crying, and he doesn't have to ask him to know why.

Yes, he thinks, closing his eyes and melting in Viktor's arms, I feel lucky, too.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your patience!!  
> Just as a heads up, the next update may not come until December! I'm currently involved in two projects that I absolutely need to spend the rest of October and all of November working on. Please check them out!
> 
> Yuri on Ice Mafia Zine: https://yoimafiazine.tumblr.com/  
> Big Bang on Ice: https://bigbangonice.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thank you! QwQ

The next time Yuuri wakes, he’s almost forgotten where he is. Something about the angle of the room is different, and it takes him a few groggy seconds of pawing around for his glasses to register that he’s staring across at his own bed. But that can’t be right. Where is he?

The memories that come crashing back hit him hard, feeling almost as solid as the arms wrapped around him from behind, or as real as the soft mattress and warm sheets against his skin.

He had kissed Viktor yesterday.

Actually, he’d done a lot of things yesterday, but kissing Viktor is what stands out in his mind the most clearly. Which means it’s the most important, of course.

Viktor’s lips had been so soft, so eager for Yuuri’s own. How long had they been waiting? Too long. Too much uncertainty, too much fear of what would come after. But now, Yuuri has the strongest urge to make up for lost time. He’d already gotten started, kissing Viktor as they left the music wing, then again on the way to grab dinner, then a few times as they headed back to the dorm. He’d made sure to keep each press of their lips short and not  _ too  _ tempting, not wanting to bring Viktor into heat again.

Which hasn’t exactly been an easy feat. Being alone in their room -- Phichit off pulling an all-nighter in the studio -- had been difficult at first. Difficult not to pull Viktor in, difficult not to push Viktor down. Viktor had seemed to almost have expected it, but Yuuri could tell that it had been pure instinct on both of their parts, and that they knew they shouldn’t let things escalate.

Yuuri had almost gone to sleep alone that night, but Viktor had surprised him by inviting him into his nest. That sort of offer from an Omega is an honor any Alpha would fight for, and so Yuuri hadn’t wasted any time crawling into bed with him. The last thing he remembers is the sound of Viktor’s steady breathing.

And now here he is. Here they are.

Yuuri covers one of Viktor’s hands with his own and realizes that this isn’t a dream, and he can kiss Viktor any time he wants to. Any time Viktor will let him. He rolls over, the breath he’d been holding sucked out of his lungs at the sight of his mate.

His mate. Long and sleep-wild hair, delicate eyelids quivering as he dreams. The lulling rise and fall of his chest, hitching slightly with a soft sigh before his breathing evens out again. His nose twitches, and Yuuri decides that he’d like to kiss it. So he does. 

It’s surprisingly cold. That won’t do. Yuuri snuggles closer, bringing Viktor’s face into his chest as gently as he can and burying his own in a soft nest of silver. He hopes he doesn’t end up waking him, but when he feels the arms around him squeeze tighter, he knows he’s done exactly that. Viktor makes a soft sound against his skin, and it grows into a rhythmic purr as he nuzzles him sleepily. Yuuri nuzzles him back, lips curving into a smile against the top of Viktor’s head. He’s so warm. They’re so warm. It isn’t just the room, or even the shared heat between them. There’s an aura around this nest that saps the energy from him in the best way, leaving him drowsy and so very warm.

I could stay like this forever, he thinks lazily, lips trailing down to Viktor’s forehead as his hands tilt his face up toward him slowly. Viktor’s eyes flutter open for the briefest of moments, granting Yuuri a glimpse of the blue sky just beyond their curtained windows. There’s just enough light in them to wake him, spurring him forward to catch Viktor’s lips in a tender kiss. The kiss is just as lazy as Yuuri feels, and their mouths move languidly, as though they have all the time in the world to memorize how the other tastes.

Yuuri almost doesn’t want to open his eyes once they pull away. He wants to drift back off to sleep, holding his Omega close. His Omega.  _ His. _

But gentle nibbling at his nose makes him grin, and the sight of Viktor is worth the loss of five more minutes in bed. Well, almost. Viktor’s eyes are full of mischief, but there’s an underlying steel that makes Yuuri brace himself.

“Good afternoon, zolotse,” Viktor says brightly. “Ready for class?”

Yuuri groans and rolls away, but Viktor’s arms are still tight around him, pulling him closer as he burrows his face into Yuuri’s shaggy hair.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” comes the murmur against Yuuri’s scalp, reverberating throughout his skull. Yuuri groans again, defeated. He feels like a soggy noodle in Viktor’s strong grasp, and the warmth of the nest has sucked all the fight out of him.

“Fine, fine, I’m getting up. Really!”

He nearly trips getting out of bed, feet tangling in the sheets, but Viktor’s hands hold him steady around his waist, and he has to hurry off to the bathroom before he swoons back into their heat. It really isn’t fair, having to dive headfirst into schoolwork when he should be drowning in these newfound feelings for Viktor instead, but that’s how it is on this bitch of an earth.

He casts a longing look back at the bed and the man in it before he leaves, knowing that a kiss goodbye wouldn’t get him very far out the door. Viktor stretches lazily, his borrowed shirt riding up his stomach, and curls around the cushions, looking up at him through his lashes.

“I’ll keep the nest nice and warm for you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri hurries out of the room as fast as he can.

Focus doesn’t exactly come easy to him, and the looks he receives throughout the day don’t help. He’d been getting these looks since he left his dorm, feeling curious eyes following him wherever he went. He hadn’t had to stop and turn to know that noses had been tipped up, scenting the air after him. Everyone seems to want to know what Viktor smells like, and Yuuri isn’t sure if he likes being sniffed at like a cheap sample of a much more extravagant perfume. But this is, essentially, what he’d signed up for. 

Being stared at with Viktor by his side had been one thing, but out on campus alone, he’s starting to wilt under the often intense gazes of others. But he refuses to let anyone take notice of this, walking with his head held high all the way to his class. His ‘let them stare’ attitude is the sort of burden that’s hard to bear alone, but he’ll do it. He’ll do it for Viktor.

He wishes he could be more surprised when the rude and invasive questions come, but he’d honestly been expecting them. They aren’t even from Chris, who winks at him as they pass in the halls, or Mila, who gives him a look at suggests that he’d get an earful later -- probably from Yuri.

An Alpha he’d hardly ever spoken to leans toward him as the class prepares for rehearsal, his voice seeming to carry over the sound of tuning instruments.

“Hey, you’re fucking The Ghost, right?”   


Yuuri freezes, stunned into silence by the abruptness of the question, and before he can think of a response, a passing Alpha and her Omega stop, looking too curious for Yuuri’s liking. He doesn’t want to look around and see just how many others are following suit. Yuuri closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“His name is Viktor. And that’s not really any of your business.”

He counts to five and prays that the world around him will have dissolved into nothingness when he opens his eyes again, but he’s disappointed to find that he’s still here in the auditorium, surrounded by people. People who have backed down, at least, averting their gazes and pretending to go about their own business again. Even the one who’d spoken to him has turned back around, no doubt intimidated by the powerful aura radiating from Yuuri’s body.

It takes him a few moments to realize that he’s angry. He’s angry, and his scent is scaring people away. This makes him feel sort of stupid, and he tries to calm himself throughout the rest of class. Going public with Viktor had been an opening for this kind of behavior toward him, and he really needs to just suck it up and deal with it. Once the novelty wears off, people will leave them alone.

Of course, he thinks grumpily as he packs his things later on, if all anyone can ask is whether or not he’s fucked his mate, maybe he’d just have to fuck him loud enough for the entire campus to hear to get them all to shut the hell up.

He’s almost relieved to see a familiar face once he exits the building, even though it’s Yuri’s and it’s glaring daggers at him. There’s a sort of hesitation in the way he approaches that tells Yuuri that he has other things on his mind than what they should go get for lunch. In fact, it’d been a while since the two of them had even spoken at all. Yuuri eyes him a little warily.

“So,” Yuri starts, scowling and not quite looking at him, “I guess you’re a dumbass after all.”

Yuuri has long since accepted this as fact, so he waits politely for Yuri to continue.

“I mean,” Yuri huffs, “you’re out here with…  _ him.  _ Not even giving a fuck anymore. Well, we warned you, you know. So don’t blame us if things go to shit.”

Yuuri’s struck with the sudden realization that Yuri is uncomfortable, and it’s probably because he realizes he was wrong. He tries not to let any satisfaction show on his face. It’s not exactly easy.

“So, you totally underestimated me, right?”

“Don’t  _ smirk _ at me, asshole,” Yuri snaps, which is as good as ‘yes,’ in Yuuri’s opinion. “You just got lucky. Or something. But anyway, I’m only here because Mila sent me.”

Yuuri blinks at him. “Sent you?”

“Well, no, not really, she’s just being a wimp, so I have to do shit myself around here,” Yuri clarifies, scuffing his boots against the ground impatiently. “She wants to talk to Viktor. And I guess I do, too,” he adds as a reluctant afterthought. “Might as well.”

Yuuri stares at him, stunned into momentary silence. It hadn’t been very long ago that the two siblings had visited his dorm to warn him about Viktor, and now they wanted to talk? Had something changed their opinion of their Pack Brother? Or, Yuuri wonders suddenly, hands starting to shake, are they going to threaten him? Chase him off? Not while Yuuri’s around.

“That’s up to Viktor. But whatever you have to say to him, I’m sure you can say in front of me.” He immediately feels like an asshole for this, for inserting himself so selfishly in the middle of what was most likely just going to be an awkward family reunion of sorts, but the thought of something happening to Viktor at the hands of people who obviously resented him is too much for Yuuri to bear. The look on Yuri’s face confirms Yuuri’s fear that he’s overreacting.

“Get a fucking grip. We aren’t about to cart him off back to Russia or some shit. We just want to talk. How stupid is it for the three of us to be on the same campus for this long and just pretend the other doesn’t exist?”

Yuuri doesn’t want to admit that he’s right, but he has to.

“Okay, fine. Fine. I’ll go talk to him. But if he doesn’t want to see you --”

“You’ll scare us off with your almighty Alpha strength, yeah, I got it,” Yuri drawls sarcastically, flipping him a gesture that could have been a goodbye or an insult as he turns and walks away. 

Yuuri stares after him, wanting to call out to him but not knowing what to say. He takes a deep breath and makes his way back to his room, and it isn’t until he’s halfway there that he realizes that he isn’t going to have time to enjoy the warmth of Viktor’s nest. He knows this, because something tells him that Viktor will be up and out immediately the minute Yuuri tells him that his Pack wants to see him again. Yuuri isn’t sure how he knows this, but he can see it in the way Viktor sits up in bed expectantly as he steps through the door.

“Yuuri? Is something wrong?”

I hope not, Yuuri thinks wearily, taking a seat on the mattress next to him. Viktor drapes himself over him, arms coming around his shoulders comfortingly. Yuuri wants to lean back into him, already feeling himself drifting off, but he’d rather not prolong the inevitable.

“I saw Yuri earlier. He and Mila want to see you.”

He can feel Viktor’s body stiffen, and surprise echoes along their Bond. Yuuri can’t tell if it’s the good or the bad sort, but either way, Viktor’s reaction points toward him accepting that offer. Yuuri can tell.

“Where are they? When do they want to meet?”

“I can give you their numbers, and you guys can meet somewhere. In public,” he adds nervously. Viktor presses a few quick kisses to the back of his head, murmuring soothingly into his hair.

“It’ll be okay, Yuuri. I was wondering when they’d ask. I want to know what they have to say.”

“You aren’t worried?” Yuuri asks, his voice providing enough worry for the both of them. He can feel Viktor’s smile against his skin.

“Doesn’t really matter how I feel. I have to do what’s right. I’ve been neglecting life and love, and that’s what family is supposed to be, right?”

Family. Yuuri nods slowly. He thinks of the way Viktor had so excitedly chatted with his family in Japan over their video call, or the way Viktor had so enthusiastically greeted Yakov at the airport. Is that the sort of family Viktor means? Who is Viktor’s family now?

Viktor slips out of bed before Yuuri can properly get his thoughts in order, stretching and yawning hugely. Yuuri notices with some pride that he grabs up his collar from the nightstand to buckle it on before going out, looking very pleased as he does so. Once he’s ready, he looks down at Yuuri’s dazed expression with a fond grin.

“You should nap. Told you I’d keep the nest warm!”

Yuuri would love to nap for the next few days, maybe even years, but the minute Viktor leaves, phone in hand as he texts Mila, Yuuri finds that he can’t seem to drift off. He keeps checking to see if he’s received any texts of his own, but after what feels like the hundredth time, he reluctantly accepts that Viktor isn’t planning on sending any. He’s probably with them by now. His family.

He’s dozing before he even realizes it, and oddly enough, the sound of muffled voices doesn’t startle him awake. He seems to sink deeper into the nest, comfortable and content, letting the sound of conversation fill him. There’s something warm and familiar that seems to call to him, inviting him closer to hear more clearly. Yuuri follows curiously, but the voices seem to pause just as they sharpen into focus. After a short silence, he hears one in particular speak again. He can almost hear the scowl behind it

“Is he listening?”

He? Who?

_ Me? _ Yuuri wonders groggily.

“Yes.”

A voice that envelopes him, keeping him safe and happy. A voice he’d gladly listen to for the rest of his life. His mate. 

“I can see it in your eyes,” comes Yuri’s voice again. “You should ask before you let your little toy listen in.”

“His name is Yuuri, as I’m sure you know,” Viktor says cheerfully, and Yuuri can nearly see the gleam of his sharp smile. “And I doubt he’s the only one listening. How are Beka and Sara?”

There’s a heavy silence before Yuri speaks up again.

“He didn’t want me to do anything…  _ rash _ .” Yuuri can just picture his pout.

“Sara’s just nosy,” Mila says simply, and the sound of Viktor’s laughter puts a small smile on Yuuri’s lips, even in his half-dreaming state. 

“Well,” Viktor says after a short pause. “There must be a reason why you wanted to finally speak with me.”

“I don’t really know what to say, or even where to start,” Mila admits. Yuri snorts loudly. “It’s been years, Vitya. What can we even say?”

“Maybe you’re not the ones who need to say anything,” Viktor suggests, something odd in his voice. “I’m the one who ran away. I should be apologizing.”

“The only person you should be apologizing to is uncle, for having to deal with your bullshit.”

It isn’t until Yuuri hears the word for ‘uncle’ that he fully realizes they’re speaking in Russian and he can somehow understand them. Is Viktor translating in his mind?

“I know that,” Viktor says, “trust me. Yakov has done more for me than I’ll ever deserve. But I owe you both an explanation. And I hope that I’ll earn your trust again someday.”

A pause. Yuuri can feel Viktor’s uncertainty, but it’s buried beneath his determination.

“Fine,” Mila finally says. “We can talk over lunch. Come on.”

Her voice trails off, and Viktor’s response with it. Words begin to grow hazy and distant, and Yuuri feels himself being gently pushed away, as though a warm and tender hand were cupping his cheek in a goodbye, with a promise to return later. He doesn’t mind. He’s heard enough to ease his mind, and by the time he’s gently shaken awake, he can’t even remember how it’d felt to be so worried.

Viktor runs his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, settling down beside him on the bed. He looks a bit worn, but there’s a small smile on his face, and Yuuri can feel a little hope radiating from him. He sits up and wraps himself around his mate immediately, nuzzling his cheek.

“I think I’m going to nap again,” Viktor murmurs into his neck. “Family is so  _ exhausting. _ ”

Yuuri pulls away to look at him hopefully. “Did it go well?”

“As well as it can go with siblings like mine. But I think things’ll get better.”

Yuuri also thinks so, and he leans forward to give Viktor a soft peck before he gets ready to leave for his evening class. Taking one last look behind him, he sees that Viktor’s already knocked out, curled against the pillow Yuuri had been drooling on. The sight makes him grin, and he shuts the door behind him quietly as he goes.

He runs into Phichit halfway to his class, but his greeting dies on his lips. Phichit looks tired, but there’s a sort of worry in his face that Yuuri knows goes beyond final exams and critiques.

“Yuuri, do you have a minute?”

Not if he wants to make it to class on time, but that doesn’t matter when his best friend is looking at him this way. It’s off-putting, to see Phichit’s usually beaming face so lined with stress.

“Yeah, what is it?”

Phichit pulls him aside, his voice lowered and his eyes darting around before fixing on Yuuri’s face.

“Hey, so, I know I was supposed to like, stay off my phone and stuff --”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow at him, relief crashing over him in waves. “You broke your ‘no social media during finals week’ vow, really? That’s it?”

“No,” Phichit says quickly. “No, I mean, that’s how I was able to find -- just… look.” He holds his phone out, screen already displaying what he’s apparently dying for Yuuri to see. Yuuri’s stomach drops before he even looks.

“I haven’t gone through his whole tag yet,” Phichit says quietly, and Yuuri knows that he’s watching him closely for a reaction. “But I saw enough.”

The majority of the recent photos in the tag labeled ‘TheGhost’ are of Viktor and Yuuri at the airport. Such a strange scene to see from an outsider’s perspective. So impersonal, yet so grossly invasive. Yuuri isn’t sure what to feel. He’d known people had been snapping photos of them. He’d known people had been watching and whispering. His insides churn as he, against all basic logic, chooses a photo at random and scrolls through the comments.

He wants to crush the phone in his hands, or throw it, or set it on fire, but something tells him that Phichit wouldn’t exactly appreciate that. He reads through a few more on a couple of different photos, absorbing the words almost unwillingly until he feels the phone slip from his grasp. Phichit is taking it from him cautiously, as though prying something out of the claws of a wild animal.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri says reflexively. “Of course people are jealous. Just trolls with no lives, right?”

“Right,” Phichit says softly, searching his face. Yuuri knows that he isn’t satisfied with what he finds there, but also knows that he won’t push it. “I’ll see you later. Is Viktor in the room?” he adds as an almost wary afterthought.

Yuuri nods. “Yeah. He’ll… he’ll be fine there.” He’ll be safe, Yuuri wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to.

He stares at his phone all throughout his evening class. Not touching it, just staring at the blank black screen. Slowly, as the professor drones on, he picks it up and finds himself back in the tag he’d been searching through on Phichit’s phone.

Envy. That’s all it is. People want Viktor. No one has ever had him. Just mindless envy.

Just mindless threats.

Yuuri isn’t sure if he should take them seriously. No one is really going to show up and take Viktor away from him. Viktor is safe.

Viktor can fend for himself, Yuuri thinks with fierce pride. He’s been doing it for years. He’s got Yakov. He’s got Yuuri. And now he’s getting his family back, slowly but surely, and family is meant to protect. 

Despite his own need to protect, he finds himself unable and unwilling to return to keeping Viktor cooped up in his room. It just isn’t right. Viktor isn’t his to command. He likes to be free, likes to wander, and most of all, he likes to follow Yuuri. Sometimes he’ll wait for him outside of his classes, eager to go eat or just to walk him back to the room. He’d asked to accompany him to the music wing to oversee his practice every so often, even going so far as to sit down with Minako to discuss his progress. 

This nearly has the instructor in hysterics, staring in awe at the world-famous sensation himself, sitting boldly in the middle of her humble practice room. She’s all smiles in front of Viktor, but hisses at Yuuri in their native tongue behind his back, demanding to know why he’d been keeping such a talented man all to himself without visiting her even once. Before Yuuri can decide whether or not to tell her that Viktor has a decent understanding of Japanese, Viktor turns and cheerfully asks him if all people from his hometown have such cute accents. This has Minako melting, and Yuuri has a moment to wonder if even Betas can resist the pull of Viktor’s immense charm.

Viktor is also out often with Yuuri and his friends, going to lunch or dinner together, and despite Yuuri’s need to glance around nervously every other minute or so, the joy he feels as he watches Viktor bask in adoration is strong enough to keep the smile on his face. It’s such a huge relief to see that his friends seem to genuinely like Viktor. Chris likes him a bit too much, in Yuuri’s opinion, but Masumi doesn’t seem alarmed at his outrageous flirting, and so Yuuri trusts him. Mostly.

When exams start, Yuuri prepares himself for the worst. He isn’t too concerned with English, which he’d always caught onto very quickly, even before moving from home, and he knows he’ll do pretty decent in his non-performance classes. Even if he does tend to fall asleep during music history.

It’s the jury examinations he’s worried about, although Viktor reassures him that he’ll be perfect. Which doesn’t exactly do much to alleviate the suddenly huge weight on his shoulders. Perfect. Could he ever really accomplish that?

His ensemble performance is public, though the audience is mainly filled with other music performance majors as they scramble to fill their required attendance quotas. Yuuri doesn’t have to see Viktor to know he’s there -- he can feel him watching. He can almost see his smile. Yuuri keeps that picture firmly in mind during his solo, and is amazed to find that he doesn’t botch it up as much as he’d thought he would.

A lukewarm response overall from the crowd, he thinks as he and the rest of the orchestra take their bows. He’ll have to work harder. He’ll have to be better.

This headstrong attitude carries over into his private performance, however, and when going over his repertoire at the last minute, he decides that it’s a bit boring. Slipping bits and pieces he’d learned with Viktor into his contemporary compositions may have screwed him over, had he not managed to pull it off and impress Minako and the rest of the jury. Viktor’s much less than impressed when he hears, asking in exasperation why he’s so  _ stubborn _ , but Yuuri only laughs as he burrows into his arms, hands trembling with the rush of success.

He’s free, finally, at least for the semester, and he’s so brimming with energy as he helps pack up their dorm room that he nearly doesn’t catch Viktor asking Phichit how his critiques had gone, and what he’ll be doing for the break.

“Spending winter break back home,” Phichit says cheerfully, shoving things haphazardly into his bags. “You?”

“Well, Yuuri’s got a few ideas.”

Yuuri had been thinking long and hard about what to do when the school closed for the holidays. It wouldn’t close for another few days, but with all of their finals out of the way, they had no reason to hang back and wait to be kicked out.

He’s spoken to his parents about it, and they’d been more than understanding, accepting that he’d like to spend his winter break elsewhere. Especially now that he has someone to spend it with.

And, he thinks, watching Viktor pack out of the corner of his eye, there’s only one place he knows of where he can really guarantee Viktor’s safety. Spending a few weeks of winter cozy and warm in Viktor’s spacious Manhattan penthouse seems like the perfect plan. He thinks of certain ways they might keep cozy and warm, and suddenly feels the burst of inspiration to pack faster.

Yakov, as it turns out, had been doing a fair share of traveling since the day he’d escorted Yuuri back to Detroit, but it doesn’t take long for Viktor to receive the text that he’s back in New York and waiting for them. And so they’re leaving today, as soon as they finish gathering their things.

Yuuri glances around his dorm, doing a final sweep to make sure he’s got all he needs. He won’t be allowed back in until the first Monday after New Year’s Day. His eyes fall on Viktor’s nest, so bare now. They’d carefully packed away his cushions, and Yuuri had pulled out at least seven of his shirts from various nooks and crannies -- one of which he’d sworn he’d lost for good. Viktor had seemed very reluctant for that one to be found. His favorite, apparently, and he wears it now very cheerfully after being told he can keep it.

Yuuri briefly wonders if Viktor would settle into a new nest, but shakes that thought away. Viktor may own property God-knows-where, but his home will always be with Yuuri. He’d told him as much as they had been packing, noticing the looks he’d kept throwing over at the now cleared bed. Yuuri had only smiled, finally starting to believe it.

Phichit gives him a spine-crushing hug, gushing about how much he’d miss him while demanding that Yuuri keep his promise to send photos all in one breath. As he pulls away, he gives Yuuri a look that’s just the slightest bit worried, but it’s gone in an instant as he turns to hug Viktor and say his goodbyes. Yuuri tries not to think of it during the cab ride, though when he looks back at the dwindling campus, he decides to keep the picture at the back of his mind as a reminder that, vacation or no, he has to be on his guard. He has to be a good Alpha.

The private jet had been sent for them again at the smaller airport, which is a massive relief. Despite Yuuri’s confidence in their now open relationship, something about returning to the spot where they’d made that decision is too raw, too full of something that he’d like to forget. Something that reminds him of things he wishes he could unsee.

The pink Cadillac, mercifully, has the top up when it rolls out onto the runway to retrieve them from the jet. The wind is cold enough that Yuuri nearly trips trying to dive into the backseat, landing face first into warm fur. Makkachin licks his face excitedly, whining and thumping her tail wildly against the leather seats as he settles comfortably against her. He hugs her close as they pull away, not having realized how much he’d missed her quiet and soothing presence.

Her one eye meets his, and he jumps on a moment of blessedly easy silence between the two usually bickering men in front to finally ask about it.

“How did Makkachin lose an eye, anyway?”

Yakov makes a sort of grunting sound, continuing to stare out the window at slow moving traffic. Viktor, driving, glances up a little sharply, but he smiles at him in the rearview mirror. 

“Oh, I never told you, did I? She lost it protecting me.” His tone is very casual and light.

Yuuri knows that if he asks for further explanation, Viktor will deflect the question. So he doesn’t. He wonders if he’d be able to tap into an answer of some sort through their Bond, but isn’t sure if that would be considered rude. Instead, he turns to look at the content poodle half in his lap, scratching her gently behind the ear.

“Good girl,” he says softly, truly meaning it. Makkachin whines and licks his palm.

The apartment is, predictably, just as he’d remembered it the last time he’d been here. The same not-quite-sterile air, the same not-entirely-unlived-in atmosphere. A place to live, but not quite a home. Still, it’s as extravagant as ever, the setting sun casting the spotless living room in its dull red glow. Yakov takes his leave, and Makkachin flops onto a rectangle of dying sunlight, basking in the warmth as Viktor and Yuuri make their way down the halls. 

Yuuri hesitates in the hallway leading to the master bedroom. Halfway there, a different door is ajar, and Yuuri can see sections of a room that’s been hazy in his memories. There are bags and boxes piled up in one of the corners from their previous shopping trip, and Yuuri decides that this is a good indicator that this is now officially his room. He drags his bags in, Viktor trailing behind him to help roll luggage through. Once everything is settled neatly, Yuuri glances at Viktor a bit nervously, suddenly unsure what to say.

“Um… I guess I --”

“You’re sleeping in my room,” Viktor says helpfully, answering his question. Yuuri flushes as he follows him back out, feeling sort of stupid. Yes, of course they’d be sleeping together, but he’d still felt compelled to ask, afraid to overstep his boundaries. Something about all this is still so unreal to him, enough to make him cautious that he might actually be dreaming.

Viktor leads him to the kitchen, which Yuuri is incredibly thankful for. It’s getting late and he’s starving, and he shadows Viktor curiously as he prepares an early dinner for them. He’s never seen Viktor cook before, too used to the two of them eating cheap and greasy things on campus.

“What’re you making?”

Viktor shrugs a little. “Just  beef stroganov and potatoes.  My mother would make it for me all the time when I was little. It’s pretty easy to make, but it’s been a while since I’ve cooked, so I’m sorry if it’s… not great.”

It is, in fact, very great, and Yuuri stuffs his face eagerly the moment Viktor slides his plate to him. Viktor watches him a bit nervously as he eats his own meal, seeming to be waiting for his approval. Yuuri doesn’t keep him waiting long.

“This is really amazing! Good cooking must run in the family,” he says between mouthfuls, and Viktor gives him a sort of quietly surprised smile, his face reddening slightly. Yuuri nearly chokes at the sight.

“Thank you, Yuuri. That really means a lot to me.”

Yuuri sort of has that same feeling he’d had in the car, where he isn’t sure if he should pry further, and doesn’t want to risk it through their Bond. But Viktor rises and disappears into the wine cellar, putting an end to his question before he can even ask it.

Viktor returns with a small bottle of wine and two glasses, grinning a little sheepishly as he plops into the seat across from him.

“Just one glass tonight is fine, I think?”

Yuuri’s face nearly explodes, and he nods and mumbles in agreement, not quite able to meet Viktor’s gaze. No, he wouldn’t be making a drunken ass of himself tonight. He’d make sure of that. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Viktor hesitate in the middle of breaking the seal. He looks a little guilty, as if worried that he’d offended him.

“We don’t have to, you know. I just thought I’d offer --”

“It’s okay,” Yuuri says quickly, eager not to ruin the moment. “I won’t overdo it this time.”

Viktor fills his glass with a sweet-looking red wine, placing it delicately into Yuuri’s waiting hand. “That night was my fault. No, it was, really. Please let me know if things go too far tonight, okay? You promise?”

Yuuri grins over the top of his glass. “Yeah. Okay, I will. I promise. You, too?”

Viktor pours into his own glass, raising it to clink it gently against Yuuri’s. “Promise.”

Conversation comes easily, thankfully, just as it had the last time they’d been here, drinking and chatting and giggling. Yuuri’s more open about discussing his schoolwork and his playing, but Viktor doesn’t pry, prompting him instead about his family, his friends, anything to make him smile. And Yuuri recognizes what he’s doing, recognizes that Viktor is doing his best to make him comfortable.

I want to open up to him, Yuuri thinks during a moment of pleasant silence, staring out the enormous window at the lights slowly flickering on to replace the sun. He wants to do what he should have done, so long ago in this very spot. Except, it hadn’t been very long at all, had it? Seated here, cozy and wine-warm in the windowsill, watching the city life go by. So high above it all. Just them in their world.

Yuuri tears his eyes away from the darkening sky to find Viktor giving him a soft gaze. It’s the look he’s always given him, Yuuri thinks, setting down his empty glass and scooting closer to him. He looks up into his eyes and smiles a little shyly.

“I remember wanting to kiss you so badly. Right here. Right before I went and screwed things up.”

Viktor smiles back and slips his arms around his waist, pulling him in even closer. “We both made mistakes that night. But we’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He’s so warm. Viktor is always warm. Yuuri almost feels drowsy, but he knows it’s just the wine. He’s got a nice strong buzz going on, entirely unlike the unpleasant headspin he’d experienced the last time he’d been drinking. It’s such a nice feeling, being in a place that feels almost like home with a man that feels almost like his other half. His soulmate? He grins and buries his face into Viktor’s shoulder.

“I’m really happy.”

It’s a simple statement, admittedly without much thought behind it. Yuuri could have said a million other things -- suave things, meaningful things, deeply poetic and tear-inducing commentary on how far they’d come in such a short amount of time. But ‘really happy’ is all he’d really been able to come up with.

And this seems to have been exactly the right thing to say, because he feels a powerful wave of joy crash over him from Viktor’s end of their Bond, filling him to the brim like the wine that’d filled his glass, just as sweet and twice as strong. He looks up into eyes that dance in the light of the setting sun, watching them flutter close as Viktor leans forward to kiss his forehead and whisper against his skin.

“We should go to bed.”

‘We.’

Another simple word that makes Yuuri, for lack of a better phrase, really happy.

He hovers impatiently as Viktor clears away their meal, but is rewarded with one last glass of wine to share between them. He can feel Viktor’s low buzz now, can see it in his dopey grin, and when the two of them stumble to the master bedroom, Viktor’s excitement is almost palpable, boiling over from his body and into Yuuri’s.

The sight of the dying light through the enormous bedroom windows is just as beautiful as it had been through the ones in the kitchen, playing across Viktor’s long hair, whipping like a lick of the flame as he wheels around suddenly to scoop Yuuri up in his arms.

Yuuri makes an unattractive squawking sound, taken by surprise, but he dissolves into a fit of tipsy giggling as Viktor swings him around the room in the sloppy imitation of a ballroom dance.

“Are you always this graceful?” Yuuri snorts after he’s nearly crashed into an armchair. Viktor places him back on the ground carefully, as though he were something precious, before giving him a mock-offended and not entirely sober look.

“I’m professionally trained, thank you very much!"

“Yeah, and I was an Emperor in my past life,” Yuuri murmurs sarcastically. Viktor huffs and leans forward to nip at his nose.

“Very funny! I’ll just have to show you someday. We’ll spend the  _ whole _ night dancing. Think you can keep up?”

Yuuri grins, pressing their foreheads together as he’s slowly backed towards the bed. “‘College Junior Yuuri Katsuki Performs The Ghost’s Ballroom Dance Flawlessly!’” he announces teasingly.

Viktor’s bark of laughter is sweet on his tongue as their lips meet, and Yuuri finds himself falling, falling back onto soft sheets and pillows. Viktor is pulled down on top of him, the two rolling over until they settle comfortably at the bed’s center, sinking deep into the pliant mattress.

A curtain of silver falls around him, blocking out nearly everything except the thing he wants to see more than anything in the world. Viktor’s face is flushed with wine and happiness, his beam so infectious that Yuuri’s cheeks hurt from smiling back.

“Viktor,” he whispers. He watches the grin fade into something soft and intimate, so much more sensual. Of course, everything about Viktor is sensual. The high curve of his cheek, the long slope of his nose, the strong arms that hold him tight, pulling him closer, pressing their bodies together in a way that leaves both of them slightly breathless. 

Yuuri feels a heat rise within him, feels his body respond in a way that Viktor’s mirrors at once, and suddenly his clothes feel too tight, too restricting, and the room is too hot. Viktor’s body is too hot where it weighs down on him, and when Viktor dips his head, his lips are too hot against Yuuri’s own, burning him in a way that makes him squirm and whine.

This, of course, only makes things more difficult to control, and after a minute or so of their mouths sliding together, he can no longer pass off the hardness he feels pressed against his leg as his imagination.

He reaches down and around Viktor without thinking, grabbing his ass hard and grinding their hips together. Viktor bucks and gasps into his mouth before melting completely under his hands, straining into him, so desperate and aching to be touched. Yuuri rolls his hips up just as Viktor jerks down onto him again, and the two of them draw back with strangled cries, bodies twitching.

Viktor feels so good against him, so large on top of him yet so soft beneath his wandering fingers. He squeezes his waist, wondering how much it would take to bruise him. He’d like to see Viktor covered in bruises, covered in marks that show that he belongs to him.

Yuuri’s fingers come up to wrap around the ring of Viktor’s collar, tugging slightly. Yes, this is his. Viktor is his. And he’s Viktor’s.

His lips trail to his neck, kissing the skin not covered by leather, and Viktor wriggles on top of him, very unsubtly grinding himself down on Yuuri’s thigh.

“Yuuri,” he groans, shuddering as Yuuri’s teeth graze his throat. “Yuuri… please…”

“Hmm?” Yuuri murmurs against his skin.

“Please… I… I want you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s hands are in Viktor’s hair now, pulling him down into another kiss that silences him. He isn’t sure he can hear any more out of his mouth. Such simple words, such a simple sentiment --  _ I want you _ . But it’s too much. He’ll lose his god damned mind, he knows it. As Viktor’s movements become just the slightest bit more frenzied, he realizes that the lack of conversation isn’t exactly helping him keep a steady head, either. At least, not the head he should be using.

He pulls away, a low purr rumbling in his chest as Viktor’s teeth tug playfully at his bottom lip before releasing it. Struggling to sit up, he shakes his scruffy hair out of his eyes, watching Viktor sit back on his haunches to stare at him.

“I…” Yuuri starts, realizing that he isn’t really sure what to say. He’s almost forgotten how to speak, and the way Viktor slowly looks him up and down and licks his lips isn’t doing much to expand his brain power.

“I know,” Viktor says softly, suddenly, taking Yuuri by surprise. “We should… I mean, I understand. I’ll wait as long as it takes until you’re ready. Until  _ we’re _ ready,” he corrects himself, looking into his eyes. Yuuri wishes that this could be the moment he sees himself just as clearly as he sees Viktor before him, wishes he could look into blue eyes and soon find himself staring into familiar brown ones instead.

But it isn’t that moment, and he quietly accepts it, extending his arms out to pull Viktor snug against his chest.

“I would give anything to -- I mean, to…” he blurts, trailing off just as quickly as he’d started. He’d give anything to Bond back, to have proof that yes, he does love him, doesn’t he? Are the cosmic energies of the universe at rest, too lazy to get off their asses and complete the melding of two souls clearly meant for each other?

We choose our own destinies, Yuuri thinks firmly, stroking Viktor’s hair. So why is he waiting for a sign from the universe?

I want it to be perfect, comes the sudden thought. Is that it? Yuuri wants the moment they fix their Bond to be absolutely perfect, truly the end result of the cosmos aligning, truly something out of the fairy tales and entirely unlike the drunken clusterfuck that had started this. Murky motives and barely-remembered moments, and a jolt on Viktor’s end that had only been the faintest echo on Yuuri’s. It isn’t fair, he decides. Viktor deserves bigger, better -- something grand and romantic and worth remembering and cherishing. Something more than just their hormone-addled bodies tearing at each other in the dark.

What can he do for Viktor?

An answer comes to him, though he immediately feels embarrassed. He doesn’t have the kind of money to really treat Viktor, exactly. He’s only at his university on scholarships, grants, and the money his parents send him weekly for food. He’s always taken summer jobs, and is pretty decent at building up his savings so that the money would stretch itself out. But he doesn’t have the money he wants. The money he wants to take Viktor someplace special.

Viktor’s teasing words come back to him, reminding him of the first time they’d been in this very same bed, lazily learning the best and worst things about each other. Yuuri had sworn he’d take Viktor someplace nice for his birthday, to which Viktor had replied that he’d paid for it. Or maybe he’d said Yakov would pay. Same thing, honestly.

“Your birthday is on Christmas, right?”

Viktor looks up at him, a bit puzzled at Yuuri’s shift in train of thought, but nods.

“Then,” Yuuri says slowly, willing his voice not to tremble, “we should do something special, right?”

Viktor hesitates before answering. “Well… I mean, I don’t really celebrate Christmas. It’s not really a thing in Russia like it is here.”

Yuuri nods, trying not to feel too stupid for forgetting that. It isn’t uncommon, obviously -- after all, Christmas in Japan isn’t like Christmas in the States, either.

“And,” Viktor continues, “we don’t really celebrate birthdays before the actual day, so I haven’t put much thought into it yet. I don’t think I’ve even really celebrated my birthday in years, actually.”

“Oh.” Yuuri hadn’t meant for it to come out so full of soft hurt, but the look of mild alarm in Viktor’s eyes tells him that it’d sounded that way.

“We can do whatever you want, though. Anything, Yuuri. Really!”

Yuuri can’t help but grin, even though he still feels like an idiot. “Hey… isn’t it  _ your _ day? It should be whatever  _ you _ want.”

Viktor takes his hand gently, placing small and warm kisses to the palm and wrist. “What I want,” he says, bringing each fingertip to his lips, “is to do what  _ you _ want.”

There’s a short pause.

“Well, that’s not fair,” Yuuri says, almost pouting, and Viktor laughs and buries his face back into the warmth and comfort of his chest.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Viktor mumbles, nuzzling him. “So, tell me… what does Yuuri Katsuki want to do on  _ my _ big day?”

“Can we go to Russia?”

It comes out in a jumble, nearly breathless, and what little breath he has left in him is held, almost in horror at his own outburst, as he feels Viktor tense against him. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says quickly, panicking, “that was so stupid, I just -- it just sort of came out, and I thought about it, you know, like, I thought it would be interesting to travel, so I asked myself, well, what place would I like to see? What place do I wanna see with Viktor? And Russia was the first thing I -- I mean, I’m sorry, that’s way too personal and I…” he trails off, his hands trembling and his vision wavering. God, what the hell is wrong with him? It hadn’t taken much thought for Yuuri to see that the subject of Viktor’s home and childhood were sort of sensitive, and going straight to the source might seem brazenly rude.

Viktor withdraws, sitting up fully to face him. To Yuuri’s relief, he looks more thoughtful than offended.

“You’d really want that? You’d really want to see Russia… with me?” There’s something odd in his voice, an excitement that almost borders on scared. Yuuri recognizes it immediately. It’s the same way he feels when he thinks of going home to Japan to see his family after being away for too long. The longing to return countered by the fear that it wouldn’t be the same. That he’d feel like an outsider instead of a man returning to a place where he truly belonged.

But why would Viktor feel that? Viktor Nikiforov, The Ghost himself, seeming to disappear on a whim to reappear all over the world. Of course, now that he thinks about it, when’s the last time he’d heard of him making an appearance in Russia? In Europe, at all? Yuuri had been too excited tracking his sightings around the US to have really noticed. All he had done is prayed that Viktor would finally appear in his city, not paying attention to much else.

“Yes. I want to see your home.”

This, apparently, was not the right thing to say. Viktor’s face darkens slightly, but, as expected, the usual cheery smile replaces it almost immediately.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea. But,” he adds quickly at Yuuri’s crestfallen look, “there are other places we could go. I have a few favorite places in Moscow, so we can start there. But I’d rather avoid St. Petersburg, if that’s fine with you.”

“Of course,” Yuuri breathes. “Of course, anything you want. We’ll go anywhere you want.”

Viktor’s smile softens into something more genuine and, taking Yuuri’s hand again, he places it against his cheek, leaning into the heat of his palm.

Yuuri’s own smile falters suddenly. He’s just remembered something sort of important.

“Wait. How will we even get there in time? Wouldn’t I need, like, a visa or something?”

Viktor’s laughter startles him, and the mischief twinkling in his eyes sets his heart pounding.

“Come on, Yuuri. Do you know who I am? I can’t remember the last time I touched paperwork that wasn’t counterfeit. I’ll speak to Yakov, and we’ll work on creating something for you.”

Yuuri nods, very clearly ignoring the illegality of the thing and letting excitement steal his voice away. This is really happening. He’s going to Russia. Viktor’s going to show him his home. Yuuri’s going to grow closer to him, going to learn more about him. He may not find out everything, and that’s okay. Anything at all is enough for Yuuri to cherish forever.

He suddenly imagines the two of them, looking into each other’s eyes and seeing themselves clearly, perfectly. He imagines them Bonding in the place that had brought Viktor pain and joy, and the idea of bringing new meaning there makes his heart soar. Maybe it’s arrogant of him to think so, but he wants to change Viktor’s life the way he had changed his.

A drowsiness steals over him suddenly, and Viktor notices at once. Gentle hands come to slowly press him back down into the mattress, tugging at the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and off. Yuuri straightens his glasses and blinks up at him, blushing hard, but Viktor places a finger to his lips.

“Just getting us ready for bed, I promise!”

Stripped down to their briefs and buried deep under warm blankets, they lie in each other’s arms, and Yuuri’s soft purring dies down as he drifts off to sleep. The last thing he hears is the sound of Viktor’s voice, low and gentle, telling him all the places he’d like to take him, all the food he’d like to make for him, and all the ways that he would try to make Russia feel like home to him, too.


End file.
